Assimilation
by Pockets Full of Sunshine
Summary: Then he sighed and turned away, wondering what exactly he just got the kid into. R&R May have a pairing, but won't be the main plot.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, readers! For this to work, I needed to totally fuck with modern Japanese history and Kenshin's ages (seriously, it's messed up how young he had to be). This corresponds with the fourth year of Harry Potter and _follows its plot_!

I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or Harry Potter. But oh, how I wish.

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Chapter One

His apprentice was asleep, leaning against the wall, katana held loosely against his shoulder. Hiko watched as he breathed up and down. Even in sleep, the idiot still managed to look troubled. But after all that he'd done, it was understandable, as well as all his fault. He'd tried to warn Kenshin, but no, he went off and did it anyway, killing thousands before he finally returned here. It'd been a month now, but he still occasionally wondered why the hell he ever let him back.

It was June now, and Kenshin would be fourteen in three weeks' time. Stupid boy, going out alone at the age of ten and staining his hands with the blood of all his victims so thoroughly that it would never wash off. And then when it was all over, he'd come running back, barely clinging on to his sanity. Though according to the boy himself, he'd lost that sanity a long, long time ago. Hiko was almost inclined to believe him.

Insanity certainly seemed the case when he showed up in front of the little cottage ("Shack," Kenshin used to say just to annoy him) at month ago, drenched in blood. Some of it had even dried. It made for a sick image, especially since his eyes were so wide they were almost too large for his face, as he shook from head to toe. It had been May, the time everything came to life, and yet his apprentice had come back to him, drowning in death.

"What are you doing here?" was the first thing he'd asked. Kenshin just looked at him with those large, large eyes. So full of fear. "I never said you could return."

Kenshin began to stammer, passing back and forth. "I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I swear, I'm so sorry, but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Everyone knows what I look like, so I can't just go walking around because there's no _possible _way to avoid people and they whisper things whenever I pass. They're afraid of me and I didn't want to have them staring at me because it's slightly unnerving and I need somewhere to go anyway since I don't want to get involved in the government and-and-and—"

Hiko then stopped him, putting hands on both of those shaking shoulders. "Calm down, and go clean yourself up. And then we can talk."

In reply, he'd received a confused nod and Kenshin allowed himself to be led away. It was half an hour before he'd come back.

"Now what were you say?" Hiko had asked, looking down at his short apprentice expectantly.

"I'm sorry. I should probably leave." He went to walk away.

"Stay." He paused. "How long do you want to stay here?"

A shrug and a mumbled. "I'm not sure. Not long. I'll only stay here for a little while, since you don't want me here."

To this, Hiko had found himself wondering where the little boy he'd taught all those years ago had gone because never had he seen him so…dejected. He furrowed his brow.

"Stay as long as you need. Just don't expect any favors."

A sigh of relief. "Thank you, sensei."

"But first, let's spar. No, no, not right now; after you've rested."

A pause. "We can't use actual katanas."

Hiko turned around. "Oh, really? No matter who you are, you're still just the student—you won't beat me, let alone kill me. Unless it's for your own safety."

A head shake. "No, I'm just not myself when someone attacks back. I'm still thinking and it's still me, but I can't seem to stop."

"How long has this been going on?"

Another shrug. "Since I was about to turn eleven, I think."

"Hm." For a moment, Hiko allowed himself to ponder. "Then we should teach you how to control that."

Kenshin looked up, red hair covering his face. "What?"

The boy was completely miserable. He'd been warned, but he didn't listen. From his face, though, Hiko could tell he didn't regret it—he still thought it was the right choice. Good for the country maybe, but bad enough that he was dead inside. That much was obvious. Something about this disturbed Hiko greatly because this dead shell was not the lively boy he remembered. But he could change that, he was sure.

Unfortunately, it had been a month and that dead look hadn't gone away. That foolish, foolish boy, throwing his life away from the greater good and allowing himself to become the most feared 'man' in the country, the symbol of all the bloodshed. He just wondered how many people realized that he hadn't even reached adulthood yet. But he could see why Kenshin ran; the few times he'd gone to down his mountain to buy sake, it was all he heard about.

He leaned against the wall, watching the tortured look etch itself across Kenshin's sleeping face. Every once in a while, he would murmur random words, such as 'Tomoe' and 'Sorry'. More than anything, he said sorry, awake and dreaming. It was nearing midnight. Hiko would also be sleeping, if he weren't waiting for something.

A week ago, he'd received a letter delivered by an owl. He'd been surprised and suspicious, but read it anyway. It addressed to him and the address was almost too precise to be a joke. At first he'd thought it was a threat notice or something of the sort, but he was proving wrong. Instead, it read this:

_Dear Mr. S. Hiko,_

_I hope to hear that my Japanese is written well enough to be understood. I am writing to you in regard of the boy, Shinta, you took under your wing a few weeks ago. This will seem a little strange, but we would like him to join us at _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_, a school for young witches and wizards such as himself. _

_It seems that there was a mistake with the Japanese school in the area. Like all schools of magical study, the first year would have been when he was eleven, but for some reason the letter could not find him. Only recently did my school, here in England, realize that he was still alive. When the Japanese school of your area (I apologize, but I cannot give out its name) was told, they said he could not be accepted in late for he'd missed too much. _

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _has only ever accepted on other late student and we would not mind repeating the favor. For some reason he has not displayed any outward signs of magic, showing that he has probably locked it away, but this can turn into a very dangerous situation for himself and those around him. Magic is not always an amicable thing when uncontrolled._

_He would need to learn quickly, of course, over the summer, if he was to enter this school because he would appear as a fourth year. Though in first year notes, it often says to get back to us by July thirty-first, I must be a bit abrupt and ask you to say whether or not he can attend no letter than June thirtieth. _

_I do hope you take this seriously;_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hiko had stared at the words for a very, very long time, trying to look at it from every possible angle. In the end, since the owl was pecking his hand so incessantly, he took a pen and wrote back:

_To Albus Dumbledore, _

_I will not tell him until you show me proof and consider who you are offering to have attend your school, if it exists. Show me magic and I will give it to him to consider._

—_Hiko_

Three days later, he'd gotten a reply:

_Dear Mr. S. Hiko,_

_Wait outside at midnight of the sixth of June. I will come there and show you proof._

_Sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

And that was how Hiko now found himself turning away from his not-so-peacefully sleeping apprentice and walking outside, where the late spring air wrapped around him like a cloak of warmth. The night was the perfect temperature and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, just a large expanse of stars and a bright shining moon.

"_I once heard someone say I painted the moon red whenever I killed."_

Kenshin's small voice shot straight through his mind. Hiko moved his eyes away from the sky. Where was the proof?

Suddenly there was a small _pop _behind him. He turned around and with a jolt of surprise, found himself only a few yards away from a man in very long robes, buckled boots, half-moon spectacles, a pointed hat, and supporting a beard and hair length that could easily be tucked into his belt. And he'd come out of nowhere. Hiko shook away his shock and accepted it easily: if this man could appear from nothing, then his letter must not have been phony. Even so, he put his hand down on the hilt of the katana at his waist, reading to use it if this man proved a threat.

After all, the letter was regarding Kenshin and if anyone went to hurt that boy, Hiko wouldn't mind killing them before the person could do it. Though he may not act it, he thought of that boy as something of a son—a son that already had enough done to him in one lifetime. Death was not a place he needed to arrive at so soon.

"Oh, don't worry, I mean you know harm, sir," the man said, walking forward. Hiko's grip lessened only slightly. He was speaking Japanese, but it sounded off with his strong British accent. "I am the one you corresponded with, Albus Dumbledore. I'm very pleased to meet you." He gave a little bow. Hiko warily returned the gesture.

"And you are already aware of who I am," he answered, straightening. "So? Is it true that boy is accepted into your school? You've shown me your proof, I'll admit it."

"Ah, yes." The man took a step forward. "Where is he, if I may ask?"

"Inside the cottage." He paused, then motioned with his hand. "Come with me. I don't want to wake him up." Side by side, they walked.

"In your last letter, you said 'and consider who you are offering to accept', correct?" Dumbledore asked. Hiko nodded. "May I ask why this is? I find myself assuming that, excuse me for wording it so bluntly but I do not know any other way to put it in this language, there is something wrong with Shinta?"

"The boy is no long Shinta. I renamed him Kenshin when he was a child and I took him in."

"Ah, Kenshin. I will keep that in mind."

"Before I answer your question, I have one of my own: What would the consequences of having uncontrolled magic do to that boy?"

The man sighed. "Alas, the first question you ask me is a sad one. He can end up hurting himself or someone else with magic or he can begin to notice little things that happen with no explanation. This can perhaps make him go insane."

Hiko almost laughed. "Believe me, sir," he said. "My idiot of an apprentice has done all of those things without the help of magic at all."

"I'm taking it that is why you asked me to 'consider' the boy?"

"Yes."

"What caused him to do this?"

"Have you ever heard of the name Battousai?" he asked as they walked. A twig snapped under Dumbledore's foot.

"Yes, of course." The old man nodded. "He's all over the Muggle news, even in England. The man is described as the 'greatest assassin in the world, and yet he still uses a sword', am I right?"

"What's a Muggle?" What an odd word. It felt strange in his mouth.

"A person who is not a witch or wizard, a non-magic individual. Shi—sorry, I mean Kenshin, is a Muggle-born, so he was born from two non-magical parents. Now, may I ask why the most powerful and feared killer in the world has to do with the fourteen-year-old sleeping in your house?" They paused at the edge of the forest.

"Kenshin is—was—the Battousai until around a month ago." The older man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But the news has it wrong when they call him a bloodthirsty murderer. In truth, he's just a stupid boy who joined this country's revolutionary movement. Yes, he has killed thousands of men and is, in fact, a murderer, but he never liked the killing. He said he'll never kill again. If you allow me to speak frankly, I believe it would be a good thing for him to leave Japan and assimilate himself back into society. The problem is that he can't do it here."

His companion had a worried face. "I see. Are you sure he won't do anything when surrounded by others?"

Hiko nodded. "Even with a sword, he won't do anything unless the two of us are sparring or he's willing to protect something."

"Is he, um, sane?"

Ah, yes, a very, very good quest. "Yes, but he's barely holding on. Anymore of this like and he'll snap. That's why I believing would be the best for him. People won't associate his face with the famous Japanese assassin. There's never been a picture taken of him and the description of his looks is mostly rumor." He laughed humorlessly. "He just looks like a sad little boy and it's said he looks like a demon. I can assure you; he only looks like that when he's about to kill someone."

"Tell me as much as you can about this boy. I agree that, from who you've said thus far, it would be good for him to leave, but I need to make sure he won't kill the other students and teachers. If I may be so bold."

In response, Hiko just sighed. That damn kid. "I found him when he was very young, back when he was still known as Shinta. An illegal group of slave traders was leading people like a herd. A large number of murderers came and slaughtered every last one of them. Kenshin, then Shinta, was the last one left alive and I walked away. Around a day and a half later, I came back to find him standing in a graveyard that hadn't been there the day before. Even at such a young age, he buried every person—slaves, traders, and bandits alike.

"I then took him in to be my apprentice, as the art of swords is a dead one, except among assassins, it seems. And I needed to pass this style on or it would be lost forever. He learned and improved at an alarmingly fast rate. When he was ten, the revolution began. We had an argument about whether or not to help. He left and within in six months he was known, not by name or face but by the efficiency and sheer brutality of his killings, as the deadliest assassin the world has ever seen. And the most blood-crazed of murderers.

"I'll admit that I believed, most like because I was still angry with him. It wasn't until I saw him again, a month ago, that I realized that with every time new blood was spilt, he died a little more inside. He came here, shaking and afraid and I used that vulnerability to get answers. He told me about the nightmares, how it didn't affect him at first, but now it has finally caught up to him and drove him to near insanity. That's what dreams can do. He said he can no longer sleep any other way than propped upright against a wall, sword against his shoulder, always alert for attack. He told about the stories he heard about himself. He spoke about his commander with respect and finally, he told about a woman named Tomoe.

"He befriended her one night after she passed out and he carried her to the inn he lived in. There she was given a job. He was eleven at the time, nearly twelve. One day it became apparent there was a traitor in the midst of their ranks and his commander told him to hide for a while and to go with her. They could pretend to be mother and child. Then she left for reasons he wouldn't say, but whatever it was, it appears to have put her in danger. He went after her—whether to speak to her or save her, I can't tell you. It turned out to be a trap the traitor set up and he was ambushed and hurt. From this, he'd lost his hearing and some of his sight. The last man he fought grabbed Tome and held her in front of him. Kenshin couldn't tell and accidently killed both of them together. Though he probably never realized it himself, I think he may have loved her.

"I believe he truly broke after that. He was already an extremely withdrawn person by nature, but after this he completely closed himself off, becoming the shell people accused him of. Even so, he saw this battle through and played a large part in the victory. When it was all over, he came back here because he had nowhere else to go. Despite what he'd done for this country, people were still afraid of him. And since he's at the young age of thirteen, he couldn't deal with that. So then I allowed him to come back and I've been teaching him how to break away from the paranoia he developed when fighting. Unfortunately, it's a bit difficult to snap him out of it, but it's possible and easier on some days than on others. I've never told him this, but he could easily kill me if I didn't have to stop him. He's exceeded the master, I'll be honest."

They fell silent as the old man thought. Hiko's mind wandered to the absurdity of this entire situation. Here he was, speaking to a man in a cloak and funny hat about his apprentice, a famous killer, training as a wizard. It was almost humorous.

"So, you're saying this boy would not be a threat to anyone?"

"You could give him a sword and he'd still never have the urge to kill a person. Parting with his sword, though, will be difficult. I'll tell you that know. He's been so accustom to it at his side that it would almost be like part of his body was missing."

"Hm. An interesting situation."

"I know a way of demonstrating his self control."

"How."

"Come back here at ten tomorrow and watch us spar. Though I can tell you right now that it will be a bad day for him, and may be a bit more difficult bring him back to reality than it was two days ago."

"How can you tell?"

"The more tortured he looks in his sleep, the harder it will be in the morning. If you come back at ten and watch, you can decide if he can come. Stay hidden and only emerge afterwards if you believe he can make it. Then I suggest you prove magic to him. If not, don't come out at all. And don't let the brutal truth of the fight sway your opinion."

"I understand."

"I'll see you, possibly, tomorrow, then."

The two exchanged goodbyes and Dumbledore disappeared right where he was standing, leaving Hiko slightly taken aback. Then he sighed and turned away, wondering what exactly he just got the kid into.


	2. Chapter 2

I currently have no reviews, but screw it. I like writing this, mainly because I love crossovers. =] Anyway, I needed to change Kenshin's hair style and describle his eyes as 'blue' as you'll see in the second paragraph. You just have to keep in mind that this technically takes place in 1995, so I had to modernize him slightly.

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Chapter Two

Albus Dumbledore sat the roof the cottage, hidden behind an invisibility spell. Down below, the master and his apprentice stood across from each other, moving so quickly during this fight that they would just disappear to the untrained eye. But to someone who had watched people zipping around on broomsticks his entire life, seeing past near-impossible speed wasn't too difficult. So he watched and assessed the situation, realizing the news did indeed make the boy out to be much scary then he was. His movements with the sword may be terrifying, but he didn't have to look of evil the media described.

For the most part, the boy still looked Asian—he eyes were the right shape, and his skin was only a shade or so lighter than most in his country. His eyes though were blue, almost purple looking, and his hair was bright red and messy, looking as if it should have been long but someone cut it hastily and didn't pay much attention. If Albus had to guess, he'd say that his mother (since his family name was distinctly Japanese) had been European or American, probably Irish. On his cheek was the very noticeable X-shaped scar that seemed to mark who he was. That may pose as a bit of a problem. The boy could not much taller than around one hundred and fifty centimeters and, if Albus was to judge correctly, only about forty-four kilograms. Though he looked a little odd, there was nothing about him to suggest a demonic killer.

Then, of course, the fight began and Albus' thoughts changed completely.

At first at seemed as though Hiko and the boy were evenly matched for the most part, or maybe Hiko had the slight upper hand. Then, after looking a little harder, he realized the man was barely keeping up with the other's movements, barely blocking and never hitting more than a scratch or so. None of the wounds were all that terrible on either of them, but the man certainly had several more. And about midway through, the boy's eyes changed completely—from that bluish-purple to a startling yellow color. It was a split seconds' change. Now Albus could understand where the demonic interpretation had come from and the only outward sign of magic the boy had ever shown thus far. It was with his eyes and only that.

"Kenshin!" Hiko called out, barely meeting the boy's sword with his own. "You idiot, stop!" The boy didn't stop. "Snap out of it, it's me!" It wasn't working. Finally, with an almost defeated sigh, he said, "Would Tomoe really be happy if you killed me?"

The boy paused and his eyes went back to their normal color for a moment. Hiko brought up his sword and hit him in the side, where he fell. For a moment, he lay there, blood spilling, before pushing himself up, holding his head with one hand. It seemed an odd thing to do, since his side was clearly in much more painful state. From his view point, Albus could see that his eyes were flashing back and forth. The hand gripping the grass had turned white the fist was so tight. Hiko kicked him to the side. Around his rib cage was bleeding badly.

"S-sorry," the boy said, grabbing the hand his master held out to him and allowing himself to be pulled up. "I don't know what happened."

"It was nothing, don't worry about it. You're getting better."

The boy mumbled something that Albus could catch. Hiko put his hand on the top of his head said with sigh, "Don't be an idiot and get angry with yourself. Does your head hurt?"

"Not anymore. Just my side."

"See? Then you're getting better at pulling yourself back."

"You make me sound like possessed."

Hiko shrugged. Albus realized his eyes were moving around, possibly searching for him. By now, Albus had made his decision. He stepped out and removed the invisibility spell.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. The boy jumped looked around his master. Hiko turned around. "That was a very interesting display. I see what you mean now, sir." He nodded.

"Who are—" the boy began, scanning this stranger's bizarre attire.

"I see you found him suitable." Hiko's hand went to the boy's shoulder. "After all those difficulties, I honestly thought you wouldn't."

"Master, who is this?" The boy looked up at him. Seeing him face to face, Albus found himself wondering where the person with yellow eyes had gone because now he was back to looking like a normal person—albeit somewhat beaten up.

"This, Kenshin, is Albus Dumbledore. He's the headmaster at the school you've been offered to go to."

"What?" He looked confused. Albus supposed he would be too if a strange man in a cloak and pointed showed up out of nowhere to offer him a position to a school he most likely didn't want to attend.

Hiko sighed. "You explain."

"Of course, sir," Albus answered and took a step closer. The boy, probably without realizing it, took a step back. "Mr. Himura, you've been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, if you would like to attend. As I told you teacher last night, you are a Muggle born wizard—someone with two non-magical parents—who should have been accepted into the Japanese wizarding school at the age eleven. There was some confusion, though, since the letter was addressed to a boy named Shinta rather than a boy named Kenshin."

The boy, who'd looked skeptical, now seemed a little surprised. "H-how did you know I was Shinta?" He looked to Hiko. "Is this some sort of sick joke to make me go away?"

Once again, Hiko let out a sigh. "It's not. I received a letter and told this man to show me proof that he was telling the truth. He did. Now just let him talk so we can this over with."

Albus continued. "Normally a school would've picked up on this mistake easily, but the situation became even more confusing when they couldn't find anyone at all, since, naturally, no expected the assassin named Battousai to be the little boy they were looking for. But mid-April last year, the English Ministry of Magic and myself realized that yes, you were alive, even if we didn't know you'd changed your name. When we informed the magical school in your area, they said they could not take you late, so Hogwarts, the school I am headmaster for, decided to take in ourselves. And yes, I do realize that who I've just accepted."

The boy looked a little taken-aback. "Show me proof," he said.

Albus gave a little smile. "Very well. I guess I should make something to bandage those wounds you are both supporting." His eyes traveled to the boy's gashed open side. "Especially that one." The boy's arm went up to clutch at it immediately.

Albus reached into his robes and extracted his wand. Both master and apprentice exchanged a look at the 'stick'. Giving them another cheery little smile, he flicked the wand and a very long stream of bandages erupted from the end. He then directed the bandages to the man and the boy, where they curled around underneath clothing and over cuts and bound themselves securely. The boy looked dumbfounded and for the first time Albus saw a little bit of life in those sad, dead eyes. Hiko just seemed mildly amused.

"Okay," the boy said after a moment, once his surprise wore off and the dead look reentered his face. "I believe you. But why me? You must have mixed me up with a different Shinta, because I'm not a wizard."

Albus laughed. "Ah, so most every Muggle born says. Yes, my dear boy, you are. You even managed to prove it to me today, though you didn't realize it."

"What? How?"

"I thought you said Kenshin showed no outward signs."

"Yes, I thought that. But have you ever wondered why your eyes changed color?"

The boy blinked. "I never thought about it before. I thought it was just because of another personality or something." Another personality? Odd way of putting it, since it was very obvious to Albus that he only had one.

"No, I can guarantee both of you that what you showed what magic."

"O-oh."

"Now, would you like to come to Hogwarts? I'll give you a little while to decide if you'd like. The school year goes from the first of September to the thirtieth of June, and it's possible for you do go home for fourteen days over Christmas break if you so desire."

The boy looked up to his master, hesitant. Hiko looked back. "I'm not making the decision for you. I think it's a good idea, but in the end, it's up to you, so don't give me that look."

"I…I guess I'll go, then." Albus beamed.

"Oh, I'm so glad. Now I suppose we should go over the details. Luckily it's a Sunday in England, so I have a little while."

"Come on, let's go into the house," Hiko said. Albus and the boy followed.

-------

"Oh, and I have one more question, Mr. Himura," Dumbledore asked as he checked his watch (if you could call it a watch). "If you don't mind."

"What…sir?" Kenshin asked, looking up at the man. He was still numb from the entire discussion and all the decisions. This situation was complicated to say the least. And he wasn't quite sure why he said yes; in the end, the simplest reason was he just wanted to get away. He also wasn't sure if he liked this Dumbledore, because the man looked weary during the whole time they were talking. But then again, Kenshin shouldn't have expected anything different.

"How is it that you earned the name 'Battousai?" Naturally, that question.

"The other side began to call me that and it just stuck," he answered. His teacher looked down at him; he'd never explained this before. "After a while, so many people knew me by that name that I just started to introduce myself that way. The moment of shock always allowed me to end the fight before the guards could ever pull out their guns. I didn't give them time to scream after a while." He said this all bluntly, without really thinking about how creepy it sounded to say that so calmly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well," he said and disappeared on the spot. He wasn't even phased.

"So that's how."

Kenshin looked up to see his teacher staring down at him. He quickly averted his eyes to the book on his lap. It was supposed to help him learn enough English so he could actually communicate to people once he went to England in the first week of July. Dumbledore was going to ask a family to let him stay with them before the school year began, so he could learn what he'd missed and improve his English. He suspected it was to get him used to being around people who weren't afraid of him. It was also decided that no one (except for a few select teachers) would be told about who he was exactly and that if he decided to tell that friends he made, then it would be okay as long as they didn't let the information leak. Luckily the Ministry would not be informed (Kenshin was happy, because he never did trust governments after all), which would good.

And if he made a friend, it would be a miracle.

"Yeah. That's how."

"That's one depressing reason."

"Don't remind me."

"Stop sounding so miserable."

"Sorry."

"And stop apologizing."

"So—I mean, okay."

His teacher sighed and shook his head. Kenshin opened the book and flipped through it. The English letters looked strange. He only knew about five or six words in English, and three of those words were food—sandwich, pizza (which was actually a different language, he realized), and cranberry. He was never quite sure why he knew that last one. The only other two were 'yes' and 'thank you' and he knew he was forgetting something. Oh yeah! It was 'please'. Besides that, it was just gibberish to him.

"Are you okay, Kenshin?" his teacher asked. "And you should probably change out of those clothes; the side and arms are soaked."

Kenshin looked up. "Stop being nice," he said. "It's weird."

A laughed. "Whatever you say. Now change, then eat something. British food is disgusting, so I suggest you eat what you can now."

He gave a smile, something that was rare for him these days. "How do you know that?"

"If you haven't noticed, I know many things."

"I suppose." His master left and he grabbed some clothes, still marveling over the situation he'd just dragged himself into.

_Why me_? he wondered, but now for the first time.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, there's one part of this chapter that is so unbelievably illogical that it's ridiculous, but I couldn't figure out how to do it any other way and Kenshin didn't seem like Kenshin without it. =/ Anyway, sorry, this chapter's a bit slow. I'm trying to cover the beginning of the book without making it seemed too rushed, but still making it move quickly. I think it'll be chapter five that the Hogwarts school year actually begins. Next chapter is the Quidditch World Cup!

I don't own RK or HP.

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Chapter Three

It was the first week of July. Kenshin by now knew enough of the English language to actually understand people to an extent. Since he'd made a visit to Diagon Alley to get his wand and Dumbledore had sent him books that taught up from first year to the end of third, he knew the grand total of fourteen spells out of probably two hundred. Now all he needed to do was wait for the old to come and bring him to the Weasleys. This was supposed to happen around nine tonight, so that it would one in the afternoon in England.

The amount of preparation this was taking was borderline annoying and he was left out of most of it. He would have honestly preferred to stay here until September first, but it made sense why he was being sent to a family this early; Kenshin couldn't deal with people. It was a simple truth. At first it was just because he was so used to being around only one person, then it became worse when he started to kill people and everyone except about three or so people (and one turned out to be a traitor, that bastard) were too afraid to talk to him, so he was too afraid to talk to them. And then came Tomoe and her death. Now it was amazing he could even open up his mouth.

Another thing was his katana, which he truly had no idea how this came into play. Mind, he wasn't ungrateful. He suspected it had something to his master telling Dumbledore something behind his back. Apparently he was allowed to bring it, but it would be put under an invisibility spell (and he still felt stupid using the words 'spell' and 'magic') and he couldn't mention it to anyone except the friends he made if he wanted to. Oh, and it had to stay in the dorm, under the mattress. The whole idea that he could bring it along without getting reprimanded was so absurd that he almost laughed. Or he would have, if he remembered how. Either way, he supposed he shouldn't be complaining; at least he'd be able to sleep.

"He's going to be here in about ten minutes," said his master, coming up from behind him.

"Yes, I know."

He started at the clock on the wall, focusing on that and avoiding everything else in the room. Next to him was the bag filled with the few things he owned—basically clothing (minus his gi, which he decided to leave here) and a toothbrush. The only other thing he owned was his katana, which was laying across his lap. He sat on the arm of the couch in front of the fire.

"Are you still okay with going?"

"Yes. Why, will you miss me?" He smiled slightly at the thought.

"I never said that. I just want to make sure you won't do anything stupid again while you're there, such as joining a rebel army and destroying over a thousand a year." The old Kenshin would have argued, but he didn't have it in him anymore.

"Don't worry, I won't. I might be off in the head, but I'm not an idiot."

A pause. Seven minutes to go.

"You shouldn't call yourself insane. I can assure you that you haven't quite reached that point yet."

Six minutes to go. Kenshin ran his fingers through his hair. For some reason, his cheek hurt and he vaguely wondered if it was going to start to leave. It had several times since he agreed to leave Japan. He wondered if Tomoe was trying to tell him to stay here. If she were still alive, he never would have. He missed her so much. Quickly, he shook the thought from his head. No, not there. Anything but there.

"It's true. Yeah, yeah, I know: Insane people don't realize they're insane. There are always those weird exceptions to everything."

Five minutes to go. Now that he really thought about, he was going to miss Japan, too, just the country in general. There probably wouldn't be many Japanese people in Hogwarts (the name still sounded odd in his head).

"Tell me, do you viable reason for saying that? I've never bothered to ask before, but considering that you're leaving in four minutes, I thought it was appropriate."

To this he hesitated, because he did have reason. He just wasn't sure how to say it without sounding sick and he didn't want to jeopardize this situation when it took everyone else so much time to put through. Three minutes, two minutes…

"Fine, I'll tell you," he finally said, mentally kicking himself for agreeing. "Just…just don't tell anyone else."

An eyebrow rose. "Very well."

"It wasn't right away, but I think I snapped after a while because while the majority of me hated the killing and when I wasn't doing the killing it scared me that I was doing it, I'll admit, even if I knew how had good reason." One minute. Maybe he should have found Katsura and told him goodbye. No, he'd done that already. Another face he missed. "But-but at the same time, some sick, twisted part of me actually liked it. And when I got bored, I dragged the fight out and toyed with them! I didn't actually like though, so I don't why I did, because it made no sense, because I was only ten when I started and thirteen when it ended and I've only been fourteen for a week and even that's really young, I know, but it's true. Somehow." A deafening silence fell around them. Three seconds, two seconds, one second…

The flames in the fireplace went their normal color the bright green. Dumbledore appeared and stepped out one the wooden floor, a merry smile on his face. Kenshin noticed that it faltered though when it took in the situation in the room—Hiko's shocked face and Kenshin's scared expression. He quickly recovered.

"Are you ready to go, Mr. Himura, or would you like a few more minutes?" Dumbledore asked, pausing on the rug at the front of the fire. Kenshin glanced at his master, feeling slightly ashamed at admitting to all of that and shook his head.

"No, I'm fine. We can leave." He hopped off the side of the couch, clutching the sheathed katana so tightly it hurt. Dumbledore looked a little surprised at the abruptness.

"Splendid news. Now listen, because I'm going to instruct you on how the two of us will arrive at the Weasleys." Kenshin nodded. Dumbledore pulled a plastic bag of green power from his robe. "You will take some of this, throwing it into the fire. Then you'll step in—don't worry, it won't hurt—and you must say 'The Burrow' as clearly as you can. Even with your accent, you should be able to do it. I'll go first, to show you what to do. Keep your elbows tucked in and don't panic. You can have a little more time, then, if you'd like."

He nodded again, but the old man didn't do it right away. Instead he turned around, tapped the katana and murmured something. It disappeared, but Kenshin could still feel the weight in his hands. It would feel so foreign without and he needed something from home that wasn't a toothbrush or clothes or the occasion letter from his master if he liked him enough to send one. This katana, if he thought about it, _was _his home. By now the sword was all he was good for. It was who he was, anyway. He fastened it to his side, against his jeans. Dumbledore put some of the green power into his hands.

Then he turned around, threw some more power into the fire, and walked straight in as if it was perfectly normal. He shouted, "The Burrow!" and was gone with a _whoosh_ing sound. Once the flames went back to red, Kenshin threw some in as well.

"Wait! Kenshin," his master said, causing him to turn around. "Don't think anything of it. You're young and you were probably happy with knowledge that you were helping and it might have had nothing to do with the killings. And…goodbye. I'll see you either this winter or this summer."

Kenshin gave a sad smile. "That was the one of the lamest excuses I've ever heard." He hesitated. "But thanks. For at least giving an excuse, I mean." Then he stepped into the fire and shouted, "The Burrow!"

Immediately he was gone, spinning past thousands of fireplaces. Ash was swirling around him. He coughed and held the bag tightly to his chest. This felt so weird, so weird, so we—

Then it was over. He tumbled out onto a very hard kitchen floor and it hurt. Damn, he hated pain. The invisible katana smacked his leg. A hand appeared in front of him. He took it and pulled himself up to find himself facing a very…cheerful looking family. Everyone had red hair, but not like his red hair. This was truly red, the kind only achieved by an Occident family.

"Hello," he said awkwardly, almost cringing at how his accent turned the 'l' sounds to 'r' sounds. He'd have to remember to correct that.

"Oh, hello!" the woman, assumed to be Mrs. Weasley (Mrs. was the right way for a married woman, right?"), said. "You must be Kenshin. It's very nice to meet you. I'm Molly Weasley."

"I'm Arthur," the man said.

"Fred," said a boy who looked older than him, followed by, "And I'm George," from an identical boy. Twins apparently.

"I'm Ron," said the boy around his age.

Finally the only girl introduced herself. "And I'm Ginny."

Hands were shoved in front of him and it took him a moment to remember he was supposed to shake them. He did so, and introduced himself. "I'm Him—I mean Kenshin Himura. Thank you for…for…" What was the word? His English was so broken. C'mon word, come back. "For allowing me to…stay? Was that right?"

"Yes, don't worry, it was fine," said Mr. Weasley. "I must admit we were a little surprised when Dumbledore asked us, but we don't mind."

"We heard this is your first time going to a wizarding school and it's already your fourth year," said one of the twins.

"And that we need to get you caught up," said the other twin. The two grinned. Too many people, way too many people. "We'd be glad to teach you."

"You will not, boys!" Mrs. Weasley glowered up at them. Kenshin stood frozen, trying to process what was going on. He couldn't understand half of these words, but they were still talking to him. And they weren't afraid. But there was so many. "You are _not _allowed to use magic outside of school, so Arthur and I will help him without you. And no trying to prank him either or so help me Merlin—"

"I think they understand, Mom," Ginny said, cutting her off. Ron walked over to him.

"Hey, I'm the one you'll be rooming with." They both stood there awkwardly.

"What do—I mean does—'rooming' mean?" He felt so stupid. Why could the rest of the world speak Japanese so that he could avoid these situations? "Sorry, I've only been working on my English for a month."

Ron gave him an impressed look. "Only a month? You're good. And rooming means staying. You'll be staying in my room. Sorry, but we don't have any spares." He couldn't understand that last word, but he could at least tell that he wouldn't be 'rooming' on his own. This day was getting worse and worse, but oh well. If he could deal with mercilessly killing politicians, then he could deal with this. "If you're Asian, then why's your hair red?"

"Ronald, don't ask that, it's rude!" Mrs. Weasley said. Her husband put his arm around his shoulder.

"It's okay, Molly, he doesn't mean any harm."

Kenshin scrambled for the right words. English was so confusing. "My mom was American. Her name was Allison James. My father was Makoto Himura. So I'm half and half." Did he say that right? He hoped so.

"Interesting, now c'mon, let us show you around," said Ginny as she went to go upstairs, motioning for him to follow. Of course, he ended up having no choice, since the three boys physically led him off.

"Sorry," Ron said, ears going red. "It's a bit small."

Kenshin shook his head. "It's big…bigger than the last one I stayed in."

"So what's Japan like, kid?" asked the twin on the right.

"Are you really fourteen? Because you look like you're about twelve," That was the other twin. Kenshin took a second to run what they said through his mind again to figure out what they meant.

"Yes. I am fourteen. And Japan is nice." His adjective use was a bit limited at the moment.

"Eh, don't worry, kid, we'll teach you English so you can actually tell us," said the twin and he was brought up the very long amount of stairs to an attic bedroom.

"Well, this is your room," Ron said, sitting on one bed. It was a very orange room, with pictures that were…that were...that moving. Then he remembered that he was in a house with magic practically seeping from the walls. There was no reason to surprised. "You sleep in that bed over there." He motioned. Kenshin nodded and put down his bag.

"This is so awesome. We have an exchange student!"

He looked over, confused. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," the twins said together. Ginny rolled her eyes and Ron shook his head in exasperation.

"So how much magic do you know?" she asked and sat down next to him. He didn't want her sitting next to him. He didn't want them all in this room. He didn't want to _be _here. This was a bad decision after all. Who was he kidding? Dealing with people was apparently not something that he could pull off.

Even so, he made himself look over and shrug, trying to act natural. Whatever natural was. "Not much. I tr-tr—" Great. What was the word?

"Do you mean tried?" Kenshin nodded. "Okay, so you tried to teach yourself magic. Did it work?"

"A little." He'd never spoken this much at one time. Never. The sunlight was pouring through the window, showing all the particles of dust.

"Well, Dad heard from a Japanese wizard who came to the Ministry that the Muggles in your country are in a bad spot because of a revolution or something," Ron said. Whatever he just said went straight over Kenshin's head.

"Can you…shorten that please?" he asked, still stumbling over his words. There was a reason he was only able to learn fourteen spells. Suddenly he realized how far behind he'd be in Potions. Oh well, he'd find a way.

"A Japanese wizard told Dad a war was going on in Japan. Is that true? That's what Ron means," one of the twins said. This time he mostly understood.

"It stopped one month ago."

"Was there really some Muggle guy killing people? He even killed a wizard, I heard!" said Ginny. All these kids…it was giving him a headache.

"What does 'guy' mean?" He sounded so stupid, not understanding this language. Oh well, he'd be fine (hopefully) by September first.

Ron said, "It means person, mostly boy."

Kenshin felt his face fled with color. Suddenly he remembered someone pulling a stick from their pocket right before he sliced through said stick and the person's body. "Oh, yes. That."

"What's his name?" The twins sounded eager.

"Hitokiri Battousai," he answered, trying to keep his face blank. He knew there was no reason to lie, so why bother?

"What does that mean?" Ron asked.

"Hitokiri is a—I mean an—an assass…assass…I don't remember."

"Assassin?" Ginny asked. Kenshin nodded. "What about the other one?"

In response, he shrugged. He, now that he thought about it, had honestly no idea what his name meant. If they knew what it was, he'd tell them to look on the internet. "The word wasn't in the book Dumbledore gave me."

"Kids!" Mr. Weasley called from downstairs. "Come back down for lunch!"

"Hey, c'mon," Ginny said, grabbing his arm and pulling him up. He was being touched. It felt weird. Together they filed down the steps to the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, since in the last chapter I said that chapter five would be the beginning of Hogwarts, I had to fit the entirety of the QWC into one chapter, told in the POV of four different people. Sooooooo hard to write. Over 6000 words. R&R. Anyway. Almost all of the dialogue in here is directly from the book (except for the things that are about Kenshin, obviously). And well, stuff? I'm already thinking about who Kenshin will go to the Yule Ball with. Any ideas? Oh, and oro makes and appearance. xD

I don't own RK or HP.

* * *

Chapter Four

When Kenshin awoke the morning the morning of the Quidditch World Cup, he was much less dismayed to see the sun still hadn't quite reached above the horizon than anyone else. The other boys in his room looked at him like he was insane, but he just ignored them. In all honesty, he was generally up at this time anyway and would just sit there waiting for the others to wake up, which sometimes took hours. All the boys dressed in sleepy silence before filing down the stairs to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was stirring something on the stove. Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, looking at the tickets and wearing normal Muggle wear. He looked strange.

Kenshin was curious to see what this was in first place, since all he'd seen were there kids here flying in a little area of trees. The Weasleys even managed to force him in the air once and he hated it (of course, he didn't admit it was because he was terrified heights; the only other person in the world who'd known that was Tomoe). Even so, he couldn't help but wonder what this would look like professionally. And it would probably be interesting—not that it would be the only that was interesting.

This entire new world still felt strange and bizarre, even if he'd now been here for six weeks. His English was significantly better than when he arrived and he was now completely caught up with first through third year work. Mostly. The people in this house were no longer so overwhelming, even the new arrivals. In the course of two days, the Hermione girl taught him more English words than he learned all summer and Harry seemed nice enough. Still, he didn't talk much, but they talked to him anyway, which was nice. In its own way. At least he was used to it by now.

"What do you think?" Mr. Weasley asked. "We're supposed to go incognito—do I look like a Muggle, you two?" He looked towards Harry and Kenshin.

"Yes," Harry answered with a smile. "Very good." Kenshin just nodded.

"Where's Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George with a yawn. Ah, the wonders of being abnormal; he was never tired in the mornings.

"Well, their Apparating, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley and she poured what he learned was called porridge into a few bowls, leaving out one for him. They'd realized by now that he didn't eat much, which was good, since he didn't want them to make extra food just so he could push himself and still not finish. His master had been right; British food was horrible.

"So their still in bed?" Fred said, eating his porridge. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test. And where have those girls got to?" She left the kitchen and could be heard climbing up the stairs.

"How old do you need to learn how to Apparate?" Kenshin asked. By now he knew the term, mostly because of Percy, but he'd never actually bothered to ask.

"Seventeen," answered Ron as Harry said, "You have to pass a test to Apparate?"

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, putting the tickets away in his pocket. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to a fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. The pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."

Everyone around the table except Harry and Kenshin winced. "Splinching" didn't sound nearly as painful as some of the other things that could happen to a person, such as bifurcation.

"Er—_splinched_?" said Harry.

"They left half of themselves behind," said Mr. Weasley. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind. Are you sure you don't want any, Kenshin?" He held out some of the porridge. Kenshin shook his head. Mr. Weasley was the only one to keep asking, even if it his wife that was always complaining about how skinny he was. "Well, you're loss."

"Were they okay?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes. But they got a heavy fine and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms—slower, but safer."

"But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?"

"Charlie had to take the test twice," said Fred, ginning. "He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

"Did everyone in that mall have to get their memory, um, what's the word?" Kenshin paused. "Oh! Get their memory erased?" He might have gotten better, but he still wasn't the best.

"Yes, and the old woman broke her legs. All of that took about five hours to fix," said Mr. Weasley.

"Which made it all the funnier when we heard he failed," said Ron before yawning into his elbow.

"Well, he passed the second time," said Mrs. Weasley as she reentered the kitchen.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can. Barely avoiding Kenshin and Ginny about yesterday. Oh! Speaking of that, watch this!"

For a moment, Kenshin didn't realize what George meant until the finger jammed him in the side.

"Oro!"

His face flooded with color and everyone laughed (except for him, who was too embarrassed).

"See? The kid squeaks!" Fred said, grinning ear to ear. Or, well, as far as it could go without tearing all the muscles in his face.

"Stop poking him," said Hermione as she and Ginny came shuffling down the stairs. "He doesn't like it." George just grinned. Kenshin scooted his chair a bit further away.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said as she sat down, conveniently between Kenshin and her brother.

"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley.

"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the Quidditch World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup—"

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley loudly, causing everyone to jump.

"What?" said George. Kenshin personally thought the innocent voice didn't suit him.

"What's that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her want at George's pocket and said, "_Accio!_" That was probably one of the hardest spells to learn, but the difficultly level was probably made even worse by Fred, George, and Ron who seemed to enjoy throwing things to confuse him until Mrs. Weasley yelled at them to stop. And he still hadn't learned. Luckily, that didn't exactly matter since Fred later told him they wouldn't learn it until this year anyway. A lot of wasted hours.

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket. No matter how many times he tried to catch them, he missed. Mrs. Weasley caught every last one of them. Living here made Kenshin realize that there_ could_ be someone even more fearsome than all the groups of people he had to fight during his days as Battousai put together.

"We told you to destroy them! We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!" It took ten minutes for her to extract all of them, leaving everyone else sitting rather awkwardly as they tried not to intervene.

The twins and Mrs. Weasley argued until it was finally time to leave and exiting on that note seemed a little ominous to Kenshin, but he decided to ignore it. It was probably nothing, just formed from the entire uncomfortable situation they were leaving behind and his nervousness about actually going somewhere other than the small village (which he'd seen once, when they'd picked up Hermione three days ago). And this Quidditch World Cup place would be packed with people. Sometimes he wondered if his dislike of crowds had turned into somewhat of a phobia.

The air was still somewhat cold and the moon was still out. If he weren't so used to the darkness, he probably would have stumbled all over the place. A little bit ahead of him, Mr. Weasley and Harry were talking about how half the wizarding world was getting to wherever they were heading. It was interesting, but he'd been explained most of it and what little new information he would have learned he barely understood. Hermione appeared next to him, easily the most awake all of the others.

"Good morning," she said, smiling. He gave a halfhearted smile back, but she seemed to understand it was his way of saying hello. "This is the first time we're actually talking alone, isn't it?" He nodded. "Well, since you're in my year—along with Ron and Harry, but you know that obviously—I thought we should learn a little bit about each other, is that okay?"

Once again, he nodded. "Okay. What do you want to ask?"

"Well, I've just been wondering why you haven't been able to go to a magical school until now, for instance. Instance in the way I'm using it right know is another word for example." Good, that little bit of information was helpful. Adding another word to his mental dictionary.

"There was a mistake. My name was…um, made different?"

"Do you mean changed?"

Kenshin nodded. "Yeah, so they couldn't find me."

"Oh, that's interesting. I'd ask you why, but that's probably a little personal." He nodded; at least someone knew privacy. Oh, but there was something he wanted to ask her. What was it…? "So what's Japan like? I heard it wasn't in such a good state. Bit strange, though, right? I mean, they were still able to continue business like it was nothing. It was just government issues right? Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself."

He shook his head. "No, it's fine." He listened as her breath came out in little pants. Looking around, he realized he was the only one not out of breath. Mr. Weasley was still explaining the transportation to Harry. "Kyoto is in bad shape. I'm from Kyoto. It's ended now though. The Patriots won, so it's better now. Do you know what 'Battousai' means?"

Yes, he would finally get his answer, though he already accepted that it was one he wouldn't like. Hermione's grave expression confirmed his suspicions before she could even say it.

"It means 'man-slayer'," she answered. "That's something you can't learn from a dictionary. I'm still not sure why he was never caught—then again, he's supposed to be the best in the world." It was strange, hearing this from someone with a British accent. Bizarre. And to think his 'fame' had spread all the way here. "And the fact that no one had ever gotten a picture disturbs me. Why did the hitokiri use swords and knifes?"

Kenshin to a moment to remember how to word this. After all, he knew the reason. "With today's, um, sorry, I don't remember the word. Tech…"

"Technology?"

"Yeah. With today's technology, it's easy to learn someone's everyday…actions?" Hermione nodded. If she stuck around him, he'd never get anything wrong. At least he didn't sound like as much of an idiot as he did those first few weeks, when he stumbled over the smallest words. And talking to her was easy, even if he was forced to use a lot of words. "So it's easier to use technology and use secret messages on paper to, um, what's the word?"

"Communicate?"

"I think so." They reached a hill. Everyone but him was getting more out of breath by the second. How was it possible? Then again, he was used to running around a city all night without stopping unless it was to kill a politician. "So you can't be found as easily if you don't use those. And the things that go inside of a—a—" He put out his hands, folding over the fingers, putting his pointer fingers together and placing his thumbs straight up.

"The bullets in a gun?" He nodded, more guessing she was right than actually knowing. It _did _sound familiar though.

"Yeah, that. The bullets can be followed back to the person who sold them. This can cause the person who uses the gun to be found. You can't follow a cut from a katana or knife back to the person who uses it."

"Hm. Interesting. You know a lot about this, don't you?"

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!" Two tall figures were standing at the top of the hill.

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley. Hermione turned to Kenshin, smiling.

"I guess we'll finish this up at the camp." He nodded as an 'okay', shutting up again. Talking was almost exhausting for him, even more so than walking five miles.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Kenshin looked up at a very tall boy who was probably around seventeen. Even so, he only went up to about Cedric's shoulder. Damn.

"Hi," said Cedric.

Every said hi back, except for Fred and George for some reason. They were generally the enthusiastic ones. Kenshin just waved.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Mr. Diggory said.

"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I'll tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still…not complaining…Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons—and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy…" He looked around at all the kids crowding around Mr. Weasley. "Are these all yours, Arthur?"

"Oh, no, only the redheads—except for this one, of course." Mr. Weasley put his hand on the top of Kenshin's head. "This is Kenshin Himura, he'll be joining Hogwarts this year as a fourth year, long story; he's staying with us until then. This is Hermione, friend of Ron's—and Harry, another friend—"

"Merlin's beard." Mr. Diggory's eyes widened. Kenshin never understood why everything was 'Merlin' with wizards, since he never bothered to ask. "Harry? Harry _Potter_?"

"Er—yeah," said Harry, looking uncomfortable. Luckily for him, though, he didn't need to deal with Mr. Diggory running away screaming. And Kenshin was currently very happy that Harry was famous, because it allowed the attention he normally would have gotten to the 'joining as a fourth year' to be completely avoided.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," he said. "Told all of us about playing against you last year…I said to him, I said—Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will…_You beat Harry Potter_!" Wasn't that somewhat…rude? Apparently Harry couldn't think of anything to say, since he just stayed quiet. The Cedric kid looked embarrassed.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he mumbled as Fred and George glowered. "I told you…it was an accident…"

"Yes, but _you _didn't fall off, did you? Almost modest, our Ced, always the gentleman…but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

Kenshin looked around as Mr. Weasley broke the awkward silence to ask about some person named Lovegood. Hermione was trying to calm Ron down and Fred and George looked to angry to talk to and Ginny was on the other side of her dad, so he turned to Harry. This probably wouldn't help his embarrassment, but oh well.

"What happened?" Kenshin whispered, curiosity getting the better of him.

"There was a storm," Harry answered quietly. "And these creatures that I'll tell you about some other day. Anyway, I fell off. It's a long story."

"You need to touch the Portkey," Mr. Weasley was saying as he turned to Harry, Hermione, and Kenshin. "That's all. One figure will do."

With extreme difficulty, all ten of them were able to huddle in a circle, touching the shoe. Kenshin was shoved between Cedric and Fred, squished between the two as he wondered if this was what a fly felt like when it was stuck between a swatter and the wall. This was definitely uncomfortable enough.

"Three…" Mr. Weasley said, eye on his watch. "Two…one…"

The moment he said 'one', Kenshin felt like someone grabbed his stomach and yanked him forward. His feet were off the ground and they were speeding away to wherever they were headed and Fred and Cedric were both banging up against him and it vaguely hurt. Then sudden, it was done. His feet slammed to the ground and the Portkey fell. Kenshin landed on his back. Cedric, Mr. Diggory, and Mr. Weasley all stayed standing.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

------

The Quidditch World Cup was possibly one of the most amazing things Hermione had ever seen and it hadn't even started yet and so far all they were doing was walking around looking at merchandise. Everything was for either Bulgaria or Ireland and all were equally amazing. This entire event was extraordinary and so filled with magic that it was simply spectacular. If

only sporting events in the Muggle world were this amazing.

But of course her wonder was nothing compared to the boy next to her. This was the most alive she'd seen him. Mind, she hadn't known him very long. It was just so strange for him to be starting his fourth year in. And he so quiet and shy, but for once he was actually opening his mouth to ask about things—and there were a lot of things to ask about.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to the dancing shamrock in Ron's hand as it did something akin to the Irish Jig.

"This?" Ron said. "It's a clover for Ireland, the team we're hoping will win. They're amazing, you'll love this, I swear! Just ask Harry and Hermione." The two nodded. "And this—" He pointed to a miniature figurine of the Bulgarian seeker, who looked a little angrier than she thought a toy should. "—is Viktor Krum, the seeker of the other team. He's brilliant. If Bulgaria wins, he'll be the only real reason. You remember what a seeker is, right?"

"The one who gets the smallest ball?" Kenshin said, though it was more of a question than an answer. Ron grinned.

"Yeah, you've got it."

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart. Hermione followed to find what looked like extremely advanced binoculars.

"Omnioculars," said the salesman and then proceeded to explain exactly what they did. "Ten Galleons each!"

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, motioning the dancing Shamrock.

"Four pairs," said Harry.

"No—don't bother," said Ron as he blushed.

"Really, don't for me," Kenshin said. "I won't use it. I can't read the plays."

Harry turned back. "Three pairs," he said, ignoring Ron's flustered sputters. The salesman looked saddened that he was getting ten Galleons less than he'd hoped. He handed them out and Harry paid. "You won't be getting anything for Christmas. For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.

"Oooh, thanks, Harry," Hermione said. "And I'll get us some programs and we'll head back. Come on!" She led them over to a booth and grabbed four programs—she knew she'd have to help Kenshin with a few words, but oh well, and they left, catching up with the rest of the Weasleys.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking excited enough to pop as a gong sounded somewhere behind him. Green and red lanterns blazed to life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. "Let's go!"

They quickly hurried off, going along with the current of people. Kenshin said something that she couldn't hear. "What?" she asked, moving in a little closer.

"I said it's brighter here than it is in Kyoto," he repeated, still looking around at all the people. His face looked a little pale and he kept stepping out of the way of people. "And even more crowded."

The exited the field and Harry turned to Hermione, smiling widely. She smiled back because this excitement was like some happy disease that no one wanted a cure for. She hooked her elbows around Ron's and Harry's as the all walked off. The stadium was easily one of the largest things she'd ever seen and she was in awe of it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," Mr. Weasley said. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anyway near all year, they'd suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away…bless them." He led them off the nearest entrance.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch when she checked the tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high up as you can go."

Inside the stadium was just as amazing as the outside; even the seats were made impressive by rich purple carpeting. They followed the rest of the crowd as it gradually thinned. They finally reached the top and saw they had what were easily had the best seats in the house. They could see everything—the two goal posts at equal distances, all of the hundred thousand witches and wizards down below, the gold glow that illuminated everything, and the gigantic blackboard that flashed different advertisements.

Suddenly, she heard Harry's voice behind her say, "_Dobby_?" She turned around immediately because though she'd heard a lot about him, she'd never actually met him.

"Is that a person?" Kenshin whispered from next to her as the little creature who evidently was not Dobby spoke the squeakiest voice Hermione had ever heard.

"Yes, but she isn't human," Hermione whispered back. "She a house-elf, a sort of servant to wizards. It's truly unfair, because they receive no pay whatsoever."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" said the elf. "My name is Winky, sir—and you, sir—You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" said Winky.

"How is he? How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir." Winky shook her head sadly. "Ah, sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"How many times do house-elves say 'sir'?" Kenshin asked from next to her, but she couldn't tell if was a serious question or not. Ron laughed quietly.

Winky's voice went even squeakier. "_He is wanting paying for his work, sir_?"

"Look, she did it again!" Ron said, laughing quietly, so Hermione missed the next thing Harry said. It shouldn't be bad to be paid for your work. These house-elves had such a warped view of labor. One day she'd figure out what to do about it. And then Winky went on then prove the house-elf warped view of labor by saying they don't want them. Sad things.

"Well, it's what their taught to do," Hermione said. "It's slavery!"

Winky stopped talking. Harry turned around. "So that's a house-elf?" Ron said. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby's even weirder," said Harry. Hermione frowned, thinking that if it was odd to want pay, then all house-elves deserved to be a little stranger.

"Wild!" Ron said suddenly. Looking over, she saw that he was testing out his Omnioculars. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again…and again…"

Hermione ignored him and flipped through her program. "'A display from the team mascots will precede the match'," she read aloud.

"What does precede mean? And mascots?" Kenshin asked. It seemed he spoke them most when he didn't understand something. She wished he would talk more so that it didn't seem like he isolated himself so much. Hopefully he'd end up in Gryffindor so the three of them could help him out.

"Precede means to come before something else," she answered. "And mascots are just the things that represents the teams."

"Oh, that's always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native lands, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

Hermione continued to point out and explain certain words to her newest friend, sometimes with the help of a few of the others (which she personally thought must have made it even more confusing) as the box slowly flooded with people. When the Malfoys came, though, even she turned around to look. Instant tension fell over the room.

"Those are the Malfoys," Harry said to Kenshin under his breath. "Stay away from them at all costs. Draco's in Hogwarts, in Slytherin. You better hope you don't get into that house."

"There's a hat that puts you where you go, though, right?" he said. "What if it puts me there?"

"The moment you get there, beg not to be put in. I'll explain how it works later."

"Okay…" Hermione looked over, curious.

Mr. Malfoy said, "Good lord, Arthur. What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched them much."

Fudge, who appeared not to have heard, said, "Lucius has just given a _very _generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How—how nice," said Mr. Weasley with a fake smile.

Mr. Malfoy turned his eyes to Hermione and she looked back at him, gaze unwavering. Then he turned his eyes to Kenshin, eyes on the odd X-shaped scar on his cheek that he simply refused to talk about. For a moment, Hermione expected him to shrink back from the stare (he seemed the type for the some reason), but he just looked back, eyes blank. Eyes…for a second there, they looked yellow. She did a double take, only to see that they were still that odd bluish-purple.

"I see that you the new boy I've heard about," he said, voice quiet but still loud that they could hear it. "I hope to hear that you make the…right choices in school, boy." His eyes went back to the scar. Then he just walked away.

"Why did he keep looking at your face?" Fred asked. The others leaned over to look.

"I don't know." Kenshin shrugged. "He was talking to me."

Hermione had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding the question.

----

"Why were you able to avoid the veela?" Harry asked, still feeling slightly embarrassed about the whole incident with he and Ron. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ginny and Hermione roll their eyes. Girls.

Kenshin shrugged as Mr. Weasley said, "That's because he listened to me when I told him to shut his ears."

"Hey, Dad, you didn't say that the first time!" said Ron, ears going pink

"Yes, he did, Ronald," Percy said, looking impatient. They bickered all the way down the steps and by the time they reached the campsite again, all the Weasley brothers had joined in.

"So what did you think of the game?" Harry asked the newest and unrelated redhead. He looked up and blinked. It took a moment before he answered.

"It was fun," he said. "I've never seen anything like it."

Harry almost asked if he'd ever seen Quidditch in Japan before he remembered that this was his first year as a wizard. At least Harry found out when he was eleven, and did all his years. Kenshin was starting in his fourth. And he barely spoke English. He was very, very glad he was never in the position before.

They all went to bed the moment they reached the tents and climbed into their bunks. Harry shut his eyes immediately and went off daydreaming. There he was, playing Quidditch, with the professional robes, his names written on the back. Ludo Bagman was announcing his name. Right before it became actual dreaming, his eyes fluttered for just a moment and saw that the new kid was sleeping upright against the wall. Then his eyes dropped again and he was asleep.

It felt like only a minute later that Mr. Weasley was shouting.

"Get up! Ron—Harry—come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

Harry sat up quickly. "S'matter?" he said, still half dreaming. Vaguely, he was aware that something was wrong because the screaming around the campsite went from excited to scared. He went over to reach for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley said, "No time, Harry—just grab a jacket and get outside—quickly!"

The sight outside of the tent terrified him—people were running, shouting and a group of wizards were huddled closely together, dressed in cloaks and above them, in midair, were four struggling figures. With a jolt of horror, he realized two things at once: first, that two of the figures were children and second, that the man was Mr. Roberts, campsite supervisor.

"That's sick," said Ron. "That is really sick."

Hermione and Ginny came towards them, along with Mr. Weasley right behind them. Bill, Charlie, and Percy exited the boys tent, fully dressed and their wands held out. Next to him, it looked like Kenshin went to reach for something on his left side and stopped, as if he suddenly changed his mind. He looked crestfallen.

"What's wrong?" he shouted over the noise.

"Nothing," the other boy answered. "Just if I were still in Japan…"

It was left at an odd statement just as Mr. Weasley said, "We're going to help the Ministry! You lot—get into the words, and _stick together_. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

The adults ran off and after a moment of standing there, everyone else left for the woods. The feeling of passing through was completely different; it had gone from infectious excitement to infectious fear. They were all being pushed back and forth by the herd of people running by. Ron suddenly gave out a cry of pain.

"What happened?" came Hermione's voice. Harry walked into her, which caused Kenshin to bump into him. Something in Japanese was mumbled and it was probably some swear word. "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid—_lumos_!"

Hermione directed the thin beam across the path, where Ron was lying on the ground. He gingerly tried to get up.

"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily.

"With feet that size, hard not to," said an all too familiar voice behind them. The four turned around sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing there, alone, against a tree, like nothing was wrong.

"Fuck off." Ron glared at him and Harry found himself wonder why Malfoy didn't have holes in his face yet.

"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like _them _spotted, would you?" He nodded to Hermione and Kenshin. Something sounding somewhat like a bomb sounded from the campsite.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione said. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Kenshin's flash almost yellowish. But then it went away and he realized that it must have been just the fire reflecting. The other boy winced and his hand went to his head. Malfoy looked amused.

"Granger, they're after _Muggles,_" said Malfoy. "Do you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around…they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh. And new kid, great why to start the year, right?" He grinned.

"Hermione's a witch and he's a wizard. Leave them alone," Harry answered, annoyed. That sick bastard.

"Have it your own way, Potter." Malfoy continued to smile. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"Watch your mouth!" Ron yelled.

"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione as she grabbed Ron's arm, keeping him away from Malfoy before he could start a fight. There was another bang from the campsite, louder than before. People screamed.

"Scare easily, don't they? I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to—trying to rescue the Muggles?"

"Where are _your _parents? Out there wearing masks, are they?"

"Well…if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"

"Oh, come on," said Hermione with a filthy look at Malfoy. "Let's go find the others—Kenshin, are you okay?"

Malfoy said something else, probably some insult, but they ignored him and walked away.

"Hm?" The boy looked at her. "Oh, just had a sudden, um…?"

"Headache?" Kenshin nodded.

"I beat you anything his dad _is _one of that masked lot!" said Ron, still seething.

"Well, with any luck the Ministry will catch him," said Hermione. "Oh, I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"

Fred, George, and Ginny had disappeared, making the situation seem even worse. The path was overcrowded with nervous people. A group of teenagers were arguing a little down the path. When they spotted the group of four, one girl turned around and said, "_Où est Madame Maxine? Nous l'avons perdue—?" _

"Er—what?" said Ron, looking baffled.

"Oh…" The girl turned back to her friends. "'Ogwarts."

"Beauxbatons," said Hermione.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

"They must go to Beauxbatons. You know…Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. I read about it in _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe._"

"Oh…yeah…right."

"Fred and George can't have gone this far," said Ron, pulling out his wand and lighting it. Kenshin took his out and did the same. The lights illuminated their faces, outlining them in shadows so every feature became a sharp angle. Harry dug in the pockets of his jacket for his own want, only to find it was missing.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it…I've lost my wand!"

"You're kidding!"

His friends raised their wands and spread out the narrow beams of light to search the ground. He didn't see it.

"Maybe it's back in the tent," said Ron.

"May it fell out of your pocket when we were running?" Hermione said.

"One of them is probably right," said Kenshin. "What else could have happened to it?"

"Yeah. Maybe…" He felt strange, because he normally kept his wand on his at all times.

There was a rustling sound a bit behind them. Suddenly Winky came running out of the bushes nearby, but she seemed as if she was having difficulty, since she was running as if something was gripping her from behind. Harry saw Kenshin do a double-take, almost like saw that someone else _was _there, then made a confused face and relaxed. Strange kid.

"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked. "People high—high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!" And she disappeared.

"What's up with her?" said Ron, watching her leave. "Why can't she run properly?"

"Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," Harry answered. Somehow, that small statement sparked a Hermione rant.

"Hey, I've been wondering since we saw that other boy," Kenshin said from behind him, causing Harry to jump. He hadn't even heard him. "What does 'Mudblood' mean? Ron seemed mad."

Mad. What an understatement. Then again, his English was pretty limited. "It's a bit of a bias term—offensive to a group of people," he added, realizing that a word like 'bias' wasn't something he would know. "It's meant for people with Muggle parents. Wizards are divided into purebloods, which means from an entirely magical family, halfbloods, meaning one Muggle parent and one wizard parent, and Muggle borns. Some purebloods, mostly those in Slytherin, think that being a Muggle born is a bad thing. Just hope the Hat doesn't put you in _that _house."

Saying that, it dawned on him that there was probably some truth to what Malfoy said—Hermione and Kenshin probably were in more danger than they were.

"What if it does?" Kenshin asked. Harry sighed.

He said, "Listen, I've never told this to anyone before, not even Ron or Hermione and I don't feel like anyone else knowing. Can you just not mention it?" Kenshin nodded. "Okay. Well, when I was a first year, the Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin but I kept on saying that I didn't want it, so it put me in Gryffindor. It turned out to be a good choice, too, since I'm much more a Gryffindor than I am a Slytherin. Maybe if you just beg to be in our house, it'll let you. I suppose how many traits you show and how badly you want it."

In response, the only thing he got was a nod. Harry personally believed that there was no way he would get into Slytherin, or even Hufflepuff—not evil enough and not…wallflower enough. If he had to guess, it would probably be Gryffindor anyway, Ravenclaw at most.

A little while later, further down the path, they passed a group of boys and three veela. The boys were bragging, saying the most ridiculous things. One Harry even recognized—the conductor of the Knight Bus, something he wished to next ride again. Then Ron yelled something about inventing a broomstick that would reach Jupiter, but Harry wasn't really listening. They walked away until they stopped in a little clearing next to the path to stop.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello! Here's chapter five. I wrote this with a headache and it shows. =/ anyway, once again, a lot of the dialogue is taken directly from the book. One thing happened a little earlier than I planned, but that's all right. Well, it's Kenshin's first day of Hogwarts. And I warn you: he's a miserable little thing is this chapter. Complete accident. Writing in Ron's POV is officially so much fun. xD enjoy!

I don't own RK or HP.

* * *

Chapter Five

The Sorting Hat fell over Kenshin's eyes, causing him to see nothing but blackness. Outside that little circle of blackness, he could hear the Hall whispering and could only guess what it could be about. _A new kid? Has that ever happened before? _All the first years had been Sorted already—he was saved for last and he came with an announcement. How embarrassing.

"Hm," said the hat in his ear. "You're quite the tricky one. You lack ambition, but that doesn't mean you always have. An assassin? Quite interesting. Thousands more deaths than I 'd like it admit….And at a young age. That requires courage, which you certainly don't lack. You're clever too and it appears you're a hard worker. You could go anywhere…"

_Gryffindor, _he thought. _Put me in Gryffindor. _

"Are you sure? It's possible you would do better in another house…Slytherin or Ravenclaw maybe. You're too…unique to end up in Hufflepuff. If you gave me a moment, I could find out what's best for you…"

_Gryffindor, _he repeated. _Put me in Gryffindor. I'm brave, I swear! _

"Well, if you insist," it said before opening its brim widely. "GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted. He breathed a sigh of relief, pulled it off, hopped off the chair, and handed the beat up old hat to Professor McGonagall. The Gryffindor table erupted with cheers. He quickly made his way over and sat down.

"See?" Hermione said with a smile. "I told you that you'd end up with us."

"Yeah, it decided after awhile," he answered and ran his fingers through his hair. Harry caught his eye, asking a silent question: _Did you have to ask, too_? Kenshin replied with a barely noticeable nod.

"Good that you made it here," Harry said.

"Took a kinda long time, though, right?" Ron said. "But finally, food! About time." He looked down at his plate. Kenshin was told that the food appeared from nowhere, but he was about to see for himself.

Professor Dumbledore stood, holding his arms out wide, a broad smile on his face. "I have only two words to say to you: _Tuck in._"

"Hear, hear!" said both Harry and Ron. Kenshin watched with amazement as the food really _did _appear from nowhere. Hermione and the other boys immediately piled their own plates, while he just grabbed a few things. Even now, he had very little appetite (it seemed that everything still tasted of blood, even four months after it was over). The house ghost Nearly Headless Nick watched sadly.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, mouth full.

Kenshin allowed himself to zone out, blocking out everything else in the Hall—mainly the people. It was just so loud, louder than the festivals held in Kyoto and those always sounded like explosions. He didn't like noise, never really had. And right now all he really wanted to do was go to sleep. The invisible katana (he could do the spell himself now), which he soon would have to keep under the mattress rather than carry around, had a comfortable weight against his hip. Since the incident at the Quidditch World Cup, he'd become slightly paranoid, he had to admit.

Then again, he was always paranoid.

_Clang_.

The sound of utensils hitting utensils woke him from his thoughts. He lifted his head to see that Hermione had knocked over her cup and pumpkin juice spilled over the tablecloth, spreading like a bloodstain—he shook that head from his head, reminding himself that he no longer needed to mentally relate everything to death.

"There are house-elves _here_?" she said, sounding horrified. "Here at _Hogwarts_?"

"Certainly," answered the ghost. Kenshin watched, interested. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!"

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they? They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning…see to the fires and so on…I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

"But do they ever get _paid_? They get _holidays, _don't they? And—and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

Kenshin almost screamed when his head flopped off and dangled, but composed himself.

"Sick leave and pensions?" the ghost said. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

Hermione looked down at her scarcely touched plate of food. Kenshin looked down at his finished one. That really _did _sound like slavery, but everyone other than her seemed to insist they liked it, even that one house-elf they met before. Maybe it was just instilled in their blood. Even so it made him wonder.

_Would I have been like that if those murders hadn't come by killed everyone? Would I be a human house-elf? _

The thought made him sick. The old scene played through his head, the way it used to in his sleep when he was younger. Suddenly, he found himself wondering if he'd ever killed any of the few who had already run away by the time Master came. Or if he killed one of their brothers or sisters or fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, friends…it was like indirect revenge if he had. Killing people…Tomoe. Kiyosato. The scared face of that one surviving child. The faces of non-important victims. Playing God. Without realizing it, his eyes went to yellow and stayed a moment longer than usual. Then they faded and his head exploded with pain. Damn that ghost for bringing up house-elves which accidently lead up with this.

He swore quietly and held his head. The others stopped their bickering over food to turn and look at his. He barely registered since the pain of the headache was so bad.

"Kenshin, are you okay?" Ron asked, swallowing his food. Hermione put her hand on his back. Inwardly, he scrambled for an excuse as Harry repeated his friend's question.

"Is it just stress?" Hermione asked, unknowingly giving him exactly what he needed.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah. It's loud and has a lot of people. It'll go away in a second."

"That's good."

Even so, he could feel their looks and it bothered him. Hermione didn't take her hand away from his back and he didn't have the heart to tell her too. It reminded him a bit too much of the "mother" he had for three months and the time one of his headaches became so bad that he could barely move without feeling the world flip. The boys went back to trying to convince their friend to eat. The pain passed. Hermione ignored them and turned to him.

"You really don't like crowds, do you?" she asked as she finally moved her hand. Kenshin shook his head. "I'm surprised, you know? How did you survive in the city?" He shrugged.

"I didn't go out much. I liked to be by myself."

"How did you deal with school?" Ah, the thought of going to school in Japan. It almost made him laugh. There was no way he'd _ever _be able to deal with. So as to avoid answering, he shrugged again. There was a pause.

"So Hermione, can you please e—" Ron was cut off as Dumbledore stood. The Hall fell silent.

"So!" said Dumbledore with a wide and happy smile. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once again ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has been extended to include Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anyone would ever like to check it." Kenshin wondered if anyone would actually bother. Not even Hermione would.

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year."

"Oh yeah, Kenshin, I forgot to ask you: Did my mom remember to sign your permission slip?" He was about to answer as Ron and Harry's faces went from neutral to shock as Dumbledore said, "It is my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." Harry and the Weasley twins gasped.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October," said the headmaster. "And will be continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

He was cut off as a roaring rumble of thunder sounded and the doors of the Hall opened. A man was in the doorway, leaning of a wooden cane and wearing a traveling cloak. Everyone turned to see the stranger, who was illuminated as lightning flashed over the stormy ceiling. It reveal very long dark grey hair. As he walked forward, there was a hollow sound that suggested he had a wooden leg as well as a wooden cane. He reached the table and another flash of lightning rolled across the ceiling, throwing him into sharp perspective. Several people gasped.

The light revealed a face that looked as if Kenshin, as Battousai, had cut him to shreds and then he mysteriously was able to put himself back together, but deep scars were created. Whatever happened to him certainly appeared to be brutal enough. His eyes were completely different and slightly disturbed him. Once was a normal eye, albeit a bit small and the other one was large and perfectly round and unnaturally blue. The latter eye was moving independently without blinking. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook his hand, revealing that his own was as scared as his face. There was an immediate impression: Don't mess with him. The stranger sat down.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore said, breaking the silence with a cheerful voice. "Professor Moody." Moody…wasn't he mentioned by that man in the fireplace earlier? His suspicious were confirmed a moment later.

"Moody," said Harry quietly to Ron. "_Mad-Eye Moody? _The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," said Ron, staring at the new teacher.

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked. "What happened to his _face_?"

"Dunno." Ron continued to watch him.

Kenshin leaned forward and whispered, "Whatever it was, it was apparently…um…I don't know the word."

"I think you mean violent," said Harry.

"Yeah, I think so."

Dumbledore coughed. "As I was saying," he said. "We are to have the honor of hosting the very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred's voice carried throughout the Hall and the tension broke. Almost everyone laughed. Hermione turned to Kenshin with a smile.

"Great way to start your first year here, isn't it?" she said. Kenshin supposed he should agree, but he currently couldn't, as he didn't know what the Triwizard Tournament was.

"I am _not _joking, Mr. Weasley," said the headmaster. "Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all went to the bar…" Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. Kenshin hadn't understood any of that.

"Er—but maybe this is not the time…no…Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who _do _know will forgive me for giving a short explanation and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in magical tasks—"

Kenshin leaned over to Hermione. "Mind telling what this means later?" he asked. She nodded, still listening. He turned back to hear a bit more of the explanation.

"Until, that is," he heard. "The death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"_Death toll_?" said Hermione next to him, horrified.

"What's wrong with dying?" Kenshin asked, confused. "If this is hard, won't there be people who're killed?" His friends stared at him, incredulous. He realized that what he said was wrong. "Never mind, ignore me," he added.

Then he allowed himself to zone out, as they would explain it to him later. Dumbledore just _had _to use big words, didn't he? Damn. Really there were only bits the pieces he understood and one part was that only students above seventeen could enter. He didn't care, but apparently a few others did.

Everyone filed out of the Hall. Kenshin stayed close to the others, trying not to get lost (or trampled). Harry, Ron, and the Weasley twins immediately launched into how the twins would get past this judging person. He would have listened, since he probably would have understood most of it, if not all of it, but he was too busy trying to memorize where he was going. It gave him a bit of a scare, though, when Neville, another boy in Gryffindor, had his foot sink through a trick step and the others had to pull him out. Then he was equally freaked out when a suit of armor spoke. Did everything here have the ability to think? It appeared that even the painting in front of the Gryffindor common room could think.

"Password?" the woman in the picture asked as they approached.

"Blabberdash," said George. "A prefect downstairs told me."

The picture swung forward and Kenshin saw that a room was behind it, a room that looked really comfortable to be in. It was a mess of squishy-looking chairs, tables, and a large fire place which Hermione looked at in distaste.

"C'mon," said Harry as he motioned for Kenshin to follow. "Mr. Weasley said an extra bed had been added to the fourth year boy's dorm, remember? I'll show you where it is."

------

One the best moments of Ron's life would come about in the span of a few minutes, but what happened beforehand wasn't exactly splendid and somewhat confusing. It started, of course, with Draco Malfoy, an article by Rita Skeeter about his parents, and several insults.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, showing a picture of his parents in front of the article. "And picture of your parents outside their house—if you could call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was furious and his shaking made it obvious. They'd gathered a small crowd of onlookers.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon Ron…"

"Oh yeah," said the pale boy. "You were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter? So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is just the picture?"

"You know _your _mother, Malfoy?" said Harry as he, Kenshin, and Hermione all grabbed the back of Ron's robes, which pissed him off. If he wanted to sock him in the face, why shouldn't he? Screw detention, revenge is better! "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that or was it just because you were with her?" Malfoy flushed pink. Ron relaxed a little—not the type of revenge he hoped for, but he supposed it was good enough for now.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then." The four turned to walk away (despite how badly Ron wanted to hit him).

Then there was a very loud _BANG! _that echoed through the room, causing several people to scream. Then there was a second lout _BANG! _and something akin to a roar.

"OH NO YOU DON'T LADDIE!" The four turned around to see Professor Moody coming down the marble staircase, wand held it out and pointing to a white ferret. Ferret? Where did that come from? Oh god…revenge fully satisfied. Silence fell.

"Did he get you?" Moody turned to Harry. This guy was officially AWESOME.

"No," said Harry, looking startled. "Missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Ron jumped.

"Leave—what?"

"Not you—him!" The four peered around the professor to see Crabbe who was about to pick up Malfoy-ferret. Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret went to run away as Moody approached. This was perfect.

"I don't think so!" Moody pointed the wand at the ferret again so it started bouncing it up and down, high in the air. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned. Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…Never—do—that—again!"

"Professor Moody!" Ron turned around to see McGonagall coming down the staircase, holding a stack of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody.

"What—what are you doing?" she asked as she watched the ferret bounce up and down in the air. All Ron could think was, _Aw, come on, don't ruin it. _

"Teaching."

"Teach—Moody, _is that a student_!" The books tumbled from her arms.

"Yup."

"No!" She ran down the stairs and pulled out her wand. A moment later, Malfoy turned back into his human form. He pulled himself to his feet, wincing. Ron sighed; yup, she ruined it all right.

"Moody we _never _use Transfiguration as punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah, but I thought a good sharp shock—"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then." Malfoy mumbled something about "his father" as usual. "Oh yeah?" continued Moody. "Well, I know you father of old, boy…You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son…you tell him that for me…Now, you Head of House'll be Snape, won't it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy through clenched teeth. Damn, Snape would let him off easy. If only Moody could have kept up that bouncing ferret act a little longer.

"Another old friend. I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…Come on, you…"

He started to walk away, gripping Malfoy by the arm, but then stopped in front of Kenshin. His small eye was staring into the other redhead's blue ones, but the spinning eye was staring at the X-shaped scar on his face.

"So you're the one Dumbledore told me about, boy?" he asked quietly so the rest of the students couldn't hear, but that didn't mean Ron and the others couldn't either. Kenshin nodded mutely, looking a little freaked. "Hm…a bit smaller than I imagined. At least you don't seem the kind to attack from behind someone's back. Got your country out of a tight spot, didn't you? Good for you, but watch yourself here, Himura—"

"Moody!" McGonagall shouted, looking shocked again. "Go to Snape; don't stop to scare the new boy!"

Moody left without a word. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned to their friend. "What was that all about?" Harry asked. Kenshin just shook his head. Now that he thought about, Ron realized that all the teachers had seemed a little hesitant to talk to him up until now.

"Nothing," he said. "Let's go to dinner, I'm hungry." He turned and left. Hermione followed. Harry and Ron exchanged a look and shrugged. Ron put it out of his mind and concentrated on more _important _matters at hand.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said as the four sat at the Gryffindor table. He shut his eyes, replaying what just happened.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," he said, smiling slightly. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret…" He opened his eyes.

Both Harry and Hermione laughed and even Kenshin managed a smile, which was good enough. Hermione put food on all of their plates.

"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," Hermione said, breaking into Ron's shining memory fixing. "It's good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it—"

"Hermione, you're ruining the best moment of my life!"

In answer, he received an impatient noise as she began to shovel down the food on her plate again.

"Don't tell me you're going back to the library this evening?" said Harry as the three boys watched her.

"Got to," she said. "Loads to do."

"But you told us Professor Vector—"

"It's not schoolwork," she said. "Otherwise, I'd bring Kenshin along as well." She nodded to him; over the summer, she'd convinced him to take class with her. Within five minutes, she left. Ron's brothers joined them.

"Moody!" Fred said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," said George.

"Supercool," added Lee Jordan as he sat down. "We had him this afternoon."

"What was it like?" Harry asked. The three boys leaned closer to listen. The twins and their friend exchanged meaningful looks.

"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.

"He _knows_, man," said Lee.

"Knows what?" asked Ron. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Kenshin didn't look as eager as he and Harry did to learn.

"Knows what it's like to out there _doing_ it," said George.

"Doing what?"

"Fighting the Dark Arts."

"He's seen it all."

"Amazing."

Hearing this, Ron dived into his bag for his schedule, excited. Then his face fell. Just great. "We haven't got him till Thursday!"

------

Ron and Harry had to start on their Divination homework, so Kenshin was nominated as the one to go and find Hermione in the library. Not that he minded, since he needed help own homework. The textbook used words he hadn't heard yet and couldn't find in his dictionary. At least several of the teachers informed him that if he needed to turn it in a day or so later than the others if he couldn't get it, they understood, at least for the beginning of the school year. The only exception was Professor Snape, which was only to be expected according to the others. Joyous.

Since he was so lost in his own thoughts, he didn't realize there was a person lurking in the doorway of an empty classroom that he passed until it was too late and he was yanked in by his left arm. On instinct, he reached to grab his katana, only to have his fingers close on thin air; it was under the mattress in his dorm, as promised. Damn it. He was slammed up against the wall and found himself face to face with that Malfoy boy.

"So I guess my father was right," he said and all Kenshin could think was, _Fuck my life. _"You really are that Muggle killer from Japan. I never would've expected you to be a wizard too…is that how you did it?"

"Did what?" Now he was completely bewildered. "Yes, I'm from Japan, but what are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me." He was pushed a little harder. "I wasn't sure at first, but then our _wonderful _new Defense teacher confirmed it to me without meaning to."

What…? How did this kid, out of everyone else in the school, figure it out? It wasn't like he was in their news, only Muggle. "No, I mean it. What are you talking about?"

"To think you're only fourteen…what an insult." And so he continued to speak in vague riddles. Grand, just grad. "Does the name Andrew Fowler ring a bell to you?"

Well, here starts the true innocent act, though he supposed it would have to end soon. Inwardly, he ran the name 'Andrew Fowler' though his head, going through a mental list of all his victims. "What does 'ring a bell' mean?"

Malfoy swore under his breath. "Do you recognize that name Andrew Fowler? You should, so don't bother denying it."

Andrew Fowler….Andrew Fowler….it dawned on his suddenly. It was the man who pulled the wand out on him (though at the time he'd thought it was just a stick). He'd been one of those 'wrong place, wrong time' kind of guys. The brunette who had been conversing with Daichi Naoki, the politician who'd been meeting with an international advisor about something or another that wasn't important enough for him to remember. The bodyguards went down easy, didn't stand a chance and Daichi himself thought that a couple of guns could protect him, but was proven wrong. No witnesses…so Kenshin went to kill the other man as he pulled out the stick, and he went down just as easily as the others. Even so, that didn't explain why Malfoy knew. But if he did, yes, there was no reason to deny it and it was all Moody's fault.

"Sounds familiar," he said stiffly. "Why?"

Malfoy laughed. "Listen here: that was my friend's fifth step-father. While he and his mother were busy collecting the money he left behind, my dad got curious and decided to look into who killed him. We were pretty surprised to find out you were just some Muggle man—boy, that's apparent now. Tell me, did you do it with magic?"

"No," he answered, shoulders still tense. "And I didn't know that he was a wizard. I'm sorry for your friend."

"I guess I'll just go and tell Father and then your whole little secret will be exposed. And to think the famous Muggle murderer is a boy my age…what an in—"

"Insult, yes, you said it before. Now, Malfoy, you listen to me," Kenshin said quietly, still not bothering to move from his place against the wall. If anyone were to walk in right now, it would be better for Malfoy to get detention rather than him, especially after what he was about to say. "If he didn't want to die, then he shouldn't have been with that Muggle politician who I was given orders to kill. No witnesses, that was always my order and followed it through every time without question. And I no longer kill, but trust me, if you even _mention _a word of this to anyone, whether it be your father, your friends, your enemies, your government, teachers or headmaster, you will find that you'll wish you hadn't."

Great, threats. And he was now making himself out to be much more frightening than he already was. Without realizing it, his eyes had changed from their usual color to yellow. Malfoy kept holding his shirt, though it was more because he was frozen in shock rather than intimidation.

"There are ways to ruin someone without death or magic, so for the sake of your own protection, you will forget this ever happened and everything else. You will forget that you ever suspected me. And just to add something else in, leave my friends alone, understand? Now get off of me before I turn you into a ferret."

Malfoy didn't need telling twice; he ran off immediately, taking one look back. It happened the moment he left—Kenshin's eyes went back to that purple-blue and his head felt like it was about to split open. This was getting ridiculous. He held his head in his hands, trying to calm his breathing. The first time this happened was around the time when he found it harder to stop himself until his victim was dead (not that it ever took long). The first time it happened around Tomoe, she hadn't known what to do, so she just sat with him, arm around his shoulders as he inwardly screamed. Of course, it was much worse back then. Much, much worse.

After getting his breathing under control, he left the room, heading to the library as promised. His head still hurt. He ran into Hermione while she was on the way back.

"Oh, hello," she said with a smile, stopping next to him. "Did the other boys send you down to find me?" Kenshin nodded, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head. For some reason it hadn't gone away yet, like it usually did. "Well, I just finished, so let's go back up."

"What're you doing in there?" he asked as they walked, running his fingers through his messy hair.

"You'll find out eventually," she said cheerfully. "So how's your day been?"

"Okay," he answered. They fell silent.

"So what was Moody saying earlier? If you don't want to talk about it, all you need to do is say so."

"I don't want to talk about it," he answered automatically. Hermione shrugged.

"That's fine," she said. They walked the rest of the way, silent, lost in their own thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

Yeah...so here it is! Chapter six. I'm not sure if you'll think so, but I found the end so sweet. =] They're not going to be a pairing though, at least not in the fourth year. This is a really weird chapter. You'll see what I mean. Once again, a lot of the dialogue taken directly from the book. Oh! And there are some referrences to my oneshot called Ghost Story. Speaking of oneshots, I just submitted one that's in direct connection to this story, but has nothing to do with Harry Potter--Just Tomoe and Kenshin.

Read author's note (saying this to people who normally don't). I don't own RK or HP.

* * *

Chapter Six

While everyone else found Thursday a reason for excitement, Kenshin found it relatively awkward. And that feeling wasn't based on nothing; the moment he entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts room, Professor Moody's magical eye swiveled in his direction. If only he could tell him right then and there that there was no way he'd kill anyone. But he couldn't, because that would blow his entire time here—all four years of it. After a moment of scrutinizing, his magical eye fixed on the rest of the class, lingering a bit longer than the others on Harry.

"You can put those away," said Moody as went to his desk, motioning with his hand to their books. "You won't need them."

As the other students put their books away, the excitement level rose. When Moody started roll call, he didn't pauses on anyone's name. Thankfully, for both Harry and Kenshin.

"Right then," he said after he finished. "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've have a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dart creatures—you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, gindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

A murmur of agreement greeted him. Kenshin, though he'd studied the books, hadn't seen any of those, just pictures.

"But you're behind—very behind—on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—"

"What, aren't you staying?" Everyone turned to look to Ron. After a pause, the professor smiled. He looked even scarier than when he just kept up a stoic face.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh? You're father get me out of a very tight corner a few days ago…Yeah, I'm staying just one year. Special favor to Dumbledore…One year, then back to my quiet retirement." He laughed and clapped his hands together. Kenshin looked down at his desk. This teacher made him feel _really _awkward.

"So—straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then."

Yeah, the reason was obvious. After all, how many parents wanted their kids to know how to torture someone to death? If it was illegal, then it meant something like that, he supposed.

"But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you're know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to be nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Kenshin turned around to see Lavender blush and put something away, just as instructed. A chill went up his spine—that eye could see through solid wood.

"So…do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose in the air. Hermione was one, of course, and surprisingly Ron. Moody pointed to him.

"Er," said Ron. "My dad told me about one…Is it called the Imperius Curse or something?"

"Ah, yes. You're father _would _know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse." Moody got to his feet, opened his desk, and took out a jar glass with spiders in it. Kenshin scooted back a little and he saw Ron do the same. Seemed they shared a mutual hatred of spiders.

The professor grabbed one of the spiders from the jar and held it in his hand so they could all see it. How could he stand _touching _it like that? He pointed his wand and it and said, "_Imperio!_"

The effect of the spell was instantaneous: the spider jumped from his hand with a thin thread and started to swing back and forth like it was on a trapeze. Then it went on to do a back flip, where it landed on the desk and did cartwheels. When Moody moved his wand, the spider rose on two legs and did a tap dance. Everyone laughed. Kenshin didn't—he felt sick, knowing that with a curse like that, a person could be forced to do something much worse than tap dance. Moody wasn't laughing either, face dead serious.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he said, then jerked his head in Kenshin's direction. "At least someone in this class has any sense. You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died.

"Total control." The spider balled itself up and began to roll over again and again. "I could make it jump out the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…"

Ron shuddered; Kenshin didn't do anything, but he felt nauseous at the thought.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse. Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free well.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Everyone jumped. Moody picked up the spider and placed it back into the jar. "Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?" Hands flew up. "Yes?" He pointed to Neville, the boy whose foot had sunk into the trick step the first day. Except that he managed to melt six cauldrons in the course of a single week, Kenshin didn't know much about him.

"There's one—the Cruciatus Curse," he said in a small voice.

Moody stared at him for a moment. "Your name's Longbottom?" he said, but he didn't continue. Then he reached into the jar and pulled out the next spider. "The Cruciatus Curse. Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea. _Engorgio!_"

Suddenly the spider swelled and became as large as a camel spider. Both Ron and Kenshin pushed back as far as they could. Ron turned to him. "Don't like spiders?" he asked, face white.

Kenshin shook his head. "I got covered in them when I was seven once," he answered as Moody pointed his wand to the enlarged spider and said, "_Crucio!_"

Immediately the spider's body contorted horribly and it began to twitch and roll and rock to side to side. Inside, it must have been shrieking. Moody didn't move his wand. For once twisted moment, Kenshin wondered if his teacher _enjoyed _it, but then realized exactly who he was talking about and shook the thought from his head. It began to jerk more and more violently until—

"Stop it!" yelled Hermione.

Kenshin and several others turned to look at her to find her staring at Neville instead of the tortured spider. The boy's eyes were widen and terrified—nightmare eyes, victim eyes, the kind that haunt you in your sleep—and his hands were clenched so tightly they were white. Moody raised his wand. It's pain must have decreased, because it relaxed. Even so, the twitching didn't stop.

"_Reducio_," he said, and the spider shrunk. He slipped it back into the jar. "Pain." His voice was soft. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse…That one was popular once too." His eyes swiveled to Kenshin's. He tried to keep his face impassive and wondered if it was working. "Tell me, boy. What part of Japan are you from?"

_Like you don't know_. "Kyoto," he answered, dreading where this was about to go.

There was a bark of a laugh, short. "The center of all the bloodshed. Many people died there." _Why are you reminding me_? "There was a Muggle killer there, wasn't there?" _What the hell is this about? _"Bet he would've like this, eh? Last I heard, the killings were pretty brutal." The class looked over, curious.

_Why are you asking me this_? "No," he said firmly. Maybe this was just some messed up test. Well, he was going to pass. He already felt like he had to prove to the teachers that he wasn't some murderer and actually had enough of a brain to know that what he did was wrong and that he would never do it again. But hadn't he already shown that by accepting the invitation to this school? It wasn't like he'd shown any violent intentions here…well, except for Malfoy, but he doubted this about that. "The assassinations were fast. He never tried to, um….what's the word? Oh, torture them for information or because he liked it. It was in-out, not stopping—I mean dragging—it out to cause the person any pain. That was it." He paused, then added, "At least that's what the police said."

Which was a total and complete lie, since everyone seemed to believe the opposite. No wondered the staff had such a warped view on him.

Moody just nodded. "Good to hear. Now, anyone know any others?"

Hermione's hand shook slightly when she raised it. "Yes?"

"_Avada Kedavra_," she whispered.

"Ah," said Moody. "Yes, the last and worst. _Avada Kedavra_…the Killing Curse."

Naturally. Everything always ended with death? Then again, he did say these were illegal—death was there, it had to be. After all, murder was the worst sport out there. The final sin of all sins. The spider he pulled out scurried around the desk, but he trapped it. Then he raised his wand and said, "_Avada Kedavra_."

There was a flash of green and a whooshing sound, like a giant bird flew through the air, and the spider rolled onto its back. It bore no mark, but it was dead. Just like that…simple, and clean. Though he tried to ignore it, something inside him whispered, _painless is no way to die. _He silently told his own mind to shut up.

"Not nice," Moody said as he swept the spider off the desk. "Not pleasant." At least it was more pleasant than being torn to shreds with the sharp side of a katana—then again, getting killed by the dull side was even more painful. Took longer. "And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Poor Harry. According the Hermione and the Weasleys, he got this all the time.

"_Avada Kedavra _is a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it—you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it."

_Really? _he thought. _Then why bother showing it in front of me? _

Sure, he wasn't going to use it, never would, but considering the teacher's paranoia towards him, it did seem a little off. First, Moody stops in front of him and tells him to watch himself after borderline complimenting him. Then here he asks if he likes to torture people and finally shows him the curse for killing people. And Moody treated him like _he _was the only one messed up?

What a hypocrite.

------

"I really don't think he should've had that lesson," Hermione said quietly as she and Kenshin sat together in the library. Normally she'd be down here to work on her freeing of those poor, poor house-elves, but today she realized it would just be better to help him with his homework. "After all, you saw Neville's reaction. Sure, I do believe we _need _to see what those are, but he should have least asked if anyone wanted to leave the room, since we're only fourteen and all."

He nodded. She paused, waiting for an actual answer, but she received none. All he did was flip through the pages of the Transfiguration book. Together they managed to go through most of the work, and they would be continuing doing a little more each day until Monday. Right now though, it was mostly just conversation—or, well, a monologue. For some reason, he was unusually quiet. And that was saying something.

"And I really hope that Neville's going to be all right—but Professor Moody must have thought of a way to cheer him up, because otherwise why he have invited him to tea? And I still can't figure out whether or not I like him; he did start off with showing us the Unforgivable Curses after all. They were interesting, yes, but was that really the way to start of the school year? Oh well, I heard he was an excellent Auror—that's a Dark wizard catcher, think a bit like a detective, which is a person who solves crimes—but that doesn't necessarily mean he's a good teacher. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He nodded again and she wondered if he was even really listening.

"But, well, I suppose we'll see as the year progresses. Why did he start questioning you about that assassin? I would say his name, but it sounds awful with my accent. Battousai. See what I mean? But anyway, wasn't that a little strange?"

"Just a little." There, an actual response. He continued flipping through the pages. She noticed he looked tired, and maybe even a little worn down. The week was probably getting to him. "What does this word mean?"

Looking down, she realized it said _whisker. _She smiled slightly; she'd forgotten how little he knew. To her, _whisker_ was a strange word not to know.

"On a cat, you know the two, um…" She paused, thinking of a way to word 'whisker'. "Long hairs that go off of its face. You know, there are three on each side. My cat has them."

He nodded. "Oh, okay." With that, he went back to reading the page.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, wondering how exactly she should put this without seeming rude.

"Okay."

"It's slightly personal. You don't need to answer if you don't want to."

"Okay, what is it?"

"You said your name was changed, right? What was—"

"Shinta."

"What?"

"That's what it was. My name was Shinta. But keep calling me Kenshin. I haven't been Shinta since I was five."

For a moment, she wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like she expected him to actually answer. He looked up. _Shinta. _She looked at him a bit closer, trying to see which name fit him more. Not that she'd call him Shinta either way. But which one…no, his current name fit better. It was scar that did it.

"Why did you want to know?"

"Just curious."

"Don't tell anyone. Please."

"Okay."

"Can I ask you something? You don't need to answer. And it's long, so you can ask me something else." This was slightly surprising coming from him. She nodded. "What was it like…growing up until now? I'm just wondering." His voice was quiet. His eyes reverted back to the page.

She'd never been asked this question before, she realized. Sure, she'd been asked what her parents did for a profession or what being a Muggle was like (Mr. Weasley was to be thanked for that one), but no one had ever worded it as _growing up _before. What an odd was to put it. Then again, that was probably the only way he knew how to ask.

"I grew up in England, obviously," she said. "Both my parents are orthodontists—dentists, people who clean your teeth and such." He nodded. "So I was never allowed to eat much sugar, but I didn't mind. Halloween was always good for that. I never had many friends, because I acted too much of a know-it-all, so people thought I was stuck up. My grades were always perfect, so teachers adored—that means loved, or liked very much—me. I talked a lot, but only my parents really listened. And strange things used to happen to me all the time. Nothing bad, though. Little things.

"We were absolutely thrilled to find out I was a witch. Going to Diagon Alley for the first time was like walking into a dream come true. When I first came here, I still didn't have many friends. Ron and Harry originally hated me and I hated them. It wasn't until a troll attacked me on Halloween while I was crying in the girls' bathroom—long story—that we actually became friends. We were absolutely inseparable after that. We've been through a lot of things together, but I suppose that's something the three of us should tell instead of just me. After all, we lived through it as friends.

"Oh, and speaking of which, I should probably warn you that some very strange things will happen to you now that you're friends with us." She smiled at his almost child-like curiosity. Then he frowned slightly.

"I'm surprised you didn't have friends," he said. "You're so nice. And being smart is a good thing."

She laughed. "Not when you're a showoff about it. So, you said I'm allowed to ask you something else, too, right?"

He nodded. "But I might not answer."

"Understood." There was a small pause. "The teachers…they all seem really careful around you and Moody acts so suspicious. Why is that?"

She was met with a sad sort of smile and, though it was small, she heard him laugh for the first time. If only it were to something fun. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. One person's figured it out, but I suppose I should tell you. Though he probably won't mention it, I'd rather you hear it from me than from him. Can you not tell Harry and Ron, though? I'd rather just…"

"Tell them yourself." She leaned in, so that he could say without anyone overhearing, even the bat-eared Madam Pierce, that crazy old librarian. There was only so much love that books could take and that woman smothered them. "Okay, I won't mention it. And I promise to believe you."

"Don't scream or anything." If it weren't for his serious, almost frightened face, she might have thought he was joking. It was generally 'don't laugh', but 'don't scream' sounded a little ominous. Something inside of her told her she knew the answer already. She dreaded that she was right.

His voice was so small she could barely hear it. "I was the, um…Battousai." He winced immediately after saying it, like he was afraid to be hit or something. To her horror, she wasn't remotely surprised. From the moment Moody had said "Got your country out of tight spot", she'd known. "But don't worry," he said quickly, voice still quiet. "I'm never going to kill anyone again—ever, not if I can help it. And I didn't enjoy it. I…I did it for Japan, not for myself. So don't believe the demon legends. Please. I didn't want to tell you, but Malfoy knew because apparently I killed his friend's fifth step father or something like that."

For a moment, she wasn't sure what to see. Though she wasn't shock, it was still, as he said, unbelievable. He was…he was so small, and skinny, and young, sad, and _innocent _looking. It shouldn't be possible that he was the most feared killer in the entire world. But, well, he did allow his side of the war to win. To think it was the boy in front of her though, the one who looked for all the world like some normal, albeit a slightly afraid, teenager, wasn't almost laughable in some twisted way. But his description fit near perfectly—the bright red hair ("the color of the demon he is" the legend went), the X-shaped scar ("only two falters in his life and it left him marked"), the thinness ("thin as a starved dog, he is"), how he was described as just a child ("evil that took the form of a boy"), even though she doubted people knew that he was below the age of twenty at least. The only difference was the blue eyes. They were near purple, but definitely now yellow ("those glittering, murderous eyes").

Though she'd seen his eyes yellow on two occasions, each time just believing it to be a trick of light. Even so, he was far from evil in her eyes, far from any demon, and far from a killer. Just to think…wait, he'd been an assassin for four years! That meant…

"Wait, are you really fourteen?" she blurted out. He looked slightly taken aback, probably expecting her to walk away rather than ask another question.

"Yeah," he said. "I just turned fourteen June twentieth."

"Then you would have to have been—"

"Ten. I was ten when I started, thirteen when I ended. I've never been to school. I suppose you could say I was home schooled by the person who taught me how to use a sword."

Ten. He was just ten. Oh god, how horrible. Barely even realizing what she was doing, she leaned over and hugged him. Tightly. His back went rigid as a board before he finally—and this shocked her more than anything else—hugged her back. His body, it was so tiny. This was so wrong. Ten, how horrible.

"See?" she said. "I didn't scream."

"Thank you," he said into her shoulder.

She could hear the smile in his voice.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi, sorry this took so long to upload. =[ But after this chapter, I won't have to skip around so much--I warn you, this'll be a long series. Though next one'll be longer, probably. o.O Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnyway. R&R. And Hiko has a part in this! yay!

Chapter Seven

The three boys sat still, trying not to look at each other in case they laughed, as their friend introduced _spew_—or S.P.E.W. as she put it. So that's what she'd been working on for all these times in the library. Except for this time, according to Kenshin. Harry glanced at him as saw that he was fidgeting, probably blocking her out. Lucky.

Hermione beamed at them after she finished her very long explanation. Harry was slightly exasperated at her. There was a silence. It was broken, though, but a soft sound coming from across the room. _Tap, tap, _on the window. Illuminated in the moonlight, shining from all her white feathers, was Hedwig perched on the sill.

"Hedwig!" he yelled, happy at both seeing the owl and the welcome means of changing the subject. She flew in the moment the window was opened, landing on top of Harry's Divination homework. "About time!"

"She's got an answer!" Ron pointed to a messy piece of paper tied to Hedwig's leg.

Harry quickly untied the letter and sat down to read it. Hedwig landed on his knee.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked. The letter was short. Harry read aloud:

_Harry—_

_I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore—they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is._

_I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron, Hermione, and the new boy who you might not have told about me. I don't mind if you do, he's trustworthy, Dumbledore says. Keep your eyes open, Harry._

_Sirius_

It felt like someone decided it would be fun to treat his insides like balloon animals and twist them. He was…this was horrible. What an idiot!

"He's flying north," Hermione said, eyes wide. "He's coming _back_?"

"Dumbledore's reading the signs?" said Ron. "Harry—what's up?"

In aggravation, Harry hit himself in the forehead. Hedwig flew out of his lap. This was terrible, so terrible, and it was all his fault.

"I shouldn't've told him!"

"What are you one about?" said Ron, surprised.

"I've made him think he's got to come back! Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you." He looked to Hedwig, angry. "You'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food." Hedwig flew off, offended, hitting him in the head with her wing.

There was a momentary lull, where Harry sat fuming. Then his moment of self-anger was broken as Kenshin asked, "Um, who's Sirius?"

An awkward feeling fell over the four of them. Harry had completely forgotten that he was there, and apparently the others had too. Glancing down at the letter again, he read the last part again. Well, Sirius said he should, but did he really want to? Then again, they were friends and didn't plan on dropping the kid to find new ones, especially since they (or at least Harry, Ron, and Hermione's side) genuinely liked each other. It didn't help that he was socially inept.

So the three of them told him. They told the whole story. It took about an hour—probably about twenty minutes more than it should have, but they used words that he didn't understand at times, so they needed to explain it to him. Like explaining dementors. That was trickier than it should have been.

There was silence when the story ended. Whatever the redhead was thinking, Harry couldn't tell. His face was completely unreadable, like usual. He would've been good at poker, if he ever played. Hermione kept glancing at him. In the end, he just shrugged.

"Well, I can see why you don't him to come back," he said. "No reason to have an innocent person caught, right?"

Harry nodded and noticed that Hermione still kept looking at Kenshin every few seconds. Either he was completely oblivious, or just ignoring her. Finally, she nudged him. He looked up. A look was exchanged, then Kenshin sighed. It was very confusing to watch.

"Fine," he said after he sighed. "I get it, information for information. I agree with you. Just…you tell them."

"Whatever happened to wanting to tell them yourself?" Hermione said, increasing his confusion. He looked to Ron for an answer, but his friend just shrugged, equally mystified.

"You're English is better."

Hermione looked at him skeptically. He just stared back blankly. After a moment or so of this, Hermione finally relented. "Finally. Sorry for pushing you into this literally two hours afterwards."

An answer didn't come right away. Then he simply said, "It's fine. The common room's empty anyway."

With a smile, Hermione turned to the other boys.

"Our friend here is the Battousai, the famous Japanese assassin," she said cheerfully, as if this was just the most normal thing in the world. Harry was shocked, though looking back, Moody basically told he, Ron, and Hermione. Even so…wow, to think _Kenshin _was the famous killer. Ron next to him just looked slightly confused. "But he has promised to never kill anyone ever again. Malfoy figured out because he killed his friend's fifth step-father. Kenshin told me earlier. Oh, and before you ask, he really is fourteen."

Harry sputtered before finally finding his voice. "But then you would've been ten! And-and-what? Wait, then how are you a wizard?" Kenshin winced.

"Yes, I was ten," he said, voice so quiet Harry could barely hear him. "The revolution stopped in May. Dumbledore found me in June. The confusion with the schools was true. They couldn't find me…made sense. When I was eleven I was killing politicians by the hundreds." He smiled, but it was bitter, humorless. This was like a mental overload right now. "But don't worry. I didn't like it back then and I won't continue now. No more killing for Hitokiri Battousai. Japan's sure happy about that."

Silence. Dead silence. Harry thought that there was silence before, when he was done telling about Sirius, but it was nothing compared to this. Kenshin was looking away, trying not to make eye contact. And at all costs, that was obvious. Ron was trying to process what was going on. Hermione just looked worried and Harry was stuck wondering how that was possible. Though he didn't watch the news much back the Dursleys, Dudley and his gang loved hearing about the 'Legendary Battousai'. Now, what would Dudley think if he found out Harry was friends with him, another fourteen-year-old?

"Well," he said, breaking the silence. "I guess we'll just have to keep this between us." Kenshin looked up, surprised. "Everyone has their secrets. So let's just keep this between the four of us."

Ron finally recovered. "Yeah, we aren't just going to keep you away from us. You're fine now right?"

Hermione's smile lit up her face again. "And see, they didn't scream?"

For the first time, Harry heard Kenshin laugh. It suited him.

-------

Hiko was practicing with his katana when the owl came. It was the first owl he'd gotten and it was already almost the end of October. Was his student really _that _afraid the he was hated here? No, as much as tried to at one point, he could never hate the boy. Perhaps he even blamed himself. He should have stopped him, not gotten angry and allowed him to leave. But that was all in the past. The present was the owl sitting by expectantly as he read the letter.

_Master, _

_You don't need to reply to this if you don't want. I'll actually be surprised if you read it, after what I said, but I thought I should write this anyway. _

_The school is fine, even if it's strange. The classes are hard and I have trouble understanding the teachers sometimes, but my friend Hermione is helping me. Yeah, I made a friend. Three in fact. I didn't expect it either. But they're the ones I spent the summer with. All the teachers seem a little afraid of me, but not so much anymore. I think they're starting to realize that I was telling the truth when I said I wouldn't kill anyone else. And I won't, I swear. _

_There's this one teacher, though, who seems to really distrust me. First time he met me was right after he turned this one boy into a ferret (long story, but it's funny, if you write back I'll tell you) and turned him back. When he passed me, he told me to watch myself and would've said more if another teacher didn't stop him. Then the first day of class, he indirectly asked me if I tortured people, which I didn't, but you know that. Today he put this curse on each of us to tell us what to do and it forced us to do it (I can't think of a better way to describe it, think hypnosis to the extreme), but completely skipped over me. I'm slightly happy that he didn't, but even so, the rest of the class is trying to figure out why. Not even I'm sure. _

_The friends I was telling you about know about my, well, past. I don't feel like getting into how. They said don't care. I just hope they mean it. _

_My cheek hasn't bled since that last day I spent in Japan. I'm not sure how I'll explain it if it does bleed again. I've had about a thousand people ask me how I got it. At least I can get away by saying I don't want to talk about it. The headaches are still there, though. Not as bad as after I fought someone, but still there. You'd think I'd be used to pain, right? Maybe not from others, but definitely from you. I'll probably never win. _

_Anyway, I hope everything in Japan is going okay. I don't exactly hear the news at Hogwarts. It feels weird being half way across the world. I miss Japan, but I guess it's good to get away. _

_If you read this, I have a favor to ask you and I would appreciate if you did it. I would rather you do this than write me back, in all honesty. Can you go down to Kyoto and buy irises to put on Tomoe's grave? She's in the cemetery. Her name's under Himura Tomoe. If I were there, I'd do it myself. Sorry to ask this of you. _

_—Kenshin _

Hiko said. Would this kid ever stop apologizing? Probably not. And he was an idiot to think he wouldn't read it. Kenshin was certainly going to be surprised when this owl came flying back to him.

His eyes scanned the letter again and his eyes caught the words, _I'll probably never win. _That little fool. If only he realized that Hiko had to stop him every time. And it wouldn't be a question of just winning, but also killing. Yes, he would admit it: Kenshin could kill him. The close match between their skills and his apprentice's willingness to be kicked aside in hopes of stopping himself were the only things that kept him from winning. If it didn't take so long…

A dawning realization fell over Hiko. The words of his apprentice echoed through his head, the last words he'd spoken before he'd left for England:

_But at the same time, some sick, twisted part of me actually like it. And when I got bored, I dragged the fight out and toyed with them!_

The letter feel from Hiko's hand, landing in the grass. The owl hooted softly, sounding almost curious. _And when I got bored, I dragged the fight out and toyed with them! _Did that mean…? Surely not! But no, it made sense. It always seemed strange that Kenshin could have killed him within short few minutes, but it always lasted longer, until there was finally an opening for Hiko to shout at him to stop. But now it was obvious—he was just being toyed with! If he weren't, then he would be dead already and the kid didn't even realize that was possible.

_I might be off in the head, but I'm not an idiot. _

No, he was both, and Hiko only realized one.

_I'll probably never win. _

It's strange that he hadn't.

_And when I got bored, I dragged the fight out and toyed with them!_

He dragged out spars too, apparently.

_That's one of the lamest excuses I've ever heard. _

Yes, yes it was.

_But at the same time, some sick, twisted part of my actually liked it._

That's because it was his mind's way of protecting him until now.

_And when I got bored, I dragged the fight out and toyed with them!_

This was scary. Very, very scary indeed.

Now all he could do was hope that a new life would heal that kid, because he needed it. Oh, hell, he needed it. And he knew it.

-----

All of the Hogwarts students all filed down to the entrance hall, where the Heads of Houses were ordering them into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," said Professor McGonagall to Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

The girl scowled and removed a large butterfly from the end of her braid. McGonagall was being even more strict was normal. It wasn't until now that Kenshin thought that possible. She was a drill sergeant in class.

"Follow me, please," she said. "First years to the front…no pushing…"

The school walked down the front steps to line up in front of the castle. The air was chilly. Kenshin hugged himself as he stood between Hermione and Lavender Brown.

"Nearly six," Ron said. Kenshin looked down the lane that led to the front gate. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," said Hermione.

"How, then?" said Harry. "Broomsticks?"

"I don't think so…" said Hermione. "Not from this far away…"

Kenshin stayed silent, not able to put in any suggestions at all—it wasn't like he knew any other forms of magical transportation, except for the Floo Network, and he doubted they would use that, because there would be no reason to be outside if they were. They other schools probably wanted a dramatic entrance.

"A Portkey?" said Ron. "Or they could Apparate—maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you that?" Hermione rolled her eyes. Kenshin looked over.

"You can't?" he asked. "Why not?"

Hermione answered, "It's part of the protection on the castle. It's very well protected, after all. It's near impossible to get past the protect. The only plausible way would be to find something that could work from the inside—though that's highly unlikely. I don't think such a thing exists."

Suddenly, Dumbledore called out form his place in the back row, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegates from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" many of the students said.

"_There_!" shouted someone Kenshin didn't recognize, pointing to the forest.

Whatever the Beauxbatons students were using to arrive was huge and steadily growing larger as it flew closer.

"It's a dragon!" yelled a first year, causing Kenshin to want to his him head against something. Oh, the stupidity. Why would someone ride a _dragon_? That wouldn't be safe in the slightest.

"Don't be stupid," said another first year who he believed was called something Creevey, though he wasn't sure. "It's a flying house!"

Though this was equally far-fetched, it was closer than a dragon. As it grew nearer, it become obvious that it was a carriage being pulled by winged horses the size of...size of….size of something large. The front row of students stepped back as the carriage landed. Neville jumped, as well as a few others. The horses were huge.

But the surprise at their size was dimmed by the surprise of the size of the woman who emerged. The only other person in the world who had height like that was Hagrid, Harry's friend and the Care of Magical Creatures professor (who was nicer than expected, since his class was so scary). In a strange way, she pulled off her size though, probably because she stood with pride, like it didn't bother her. Dumbledore began to clap and the rest of the school joined in. When she came forward, face in a relaxed smile, the headmaster barely needed to bend to kiss her hand.

"My dear Madame Maxime," said Dumbledore and Kenshin remembered hearing her name at the World Cup, from those French teenagers. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," she answered in a deep voice, accent as obvious as his, possibly worse. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, thank you." The Beauxbatons students stood in their headmistress' shadow, shivering as they stared up at the castle.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, motioning to her small crowd of students. "'as Karkaroff arrived yet?"

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

Kenshin turned to Hermione, his excellent language teacher. "What does trifle mean?" he asked.

"A little," she answered as Madame Maxime said, "Warm up, I think. But ze 'orses—"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore. "The moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other—er—charges."

"Skrewts," said Ron. The other three grinned. Those things were so creepy. First day of class, Kenshin had gotten a burn on his arm, one that actually scared over. They did more damage to him than most of his victims.

"My steeds require—er—a forceful 'andaling," said Madame Maxime, doubtful. "Zey are very strong…"

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job." Yeah, if he could handle skrewts, he could probably deal with anything.

"Very well." The enormous woman bowed slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?" Horses that fed off of only alcohol…interesting.

"It will be attended to."

"Come." Madame Maxime and her students walked, the Hogwarts crowd parting to let them pass, into the warmth of the building. Lucky them. He was freezing.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" said Seamus Finnigan.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," Harry said. Kenshin had to agree. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," said Ron.

"Oh, don't say that." Hermione shuddered. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds…"

"And our next assignment would probably be to catch them," said Kenshin, preferring not to picture that torturous event.

Waiting for the Durmstrang students for so long was causing Kenshin's shivering to increase. Cold, so unbelievably cold. Around this time in Japan, the temperature, while not quite being warm, was still comfortable, even at night.

"Can you hear something?" said Ron as a muffled sucking sound drifted through the night.

"The lake!" shouted Lee Jordan, pointing. "Look at the lake!"

What had been a flat surface of water only moments before was now something more akin to an ocean, with large waves splashing against the shore and then a whirlpool appeared. What the hell?

Something long was black, like a pole, was rising out from the middle. It was a—

"It's a mast!" Harry said, turning to the other three.

A ship rose out of the water, glistening from the moonlight. When it had emerged entirely, it drifted towards the shore, where it docked itself. Then came the splash of an anchor and people exited, just shadows from the light pouring behind them. At first, they all seemed large, but as they drew closer, Kenshin realized they were wearing large, furry looking cloaks. The man who was leading them was wearing a cloak made of sleek furs, unlike the shaggy ones worn by his students. His hair was as white as Dumbledore's, but it was shorter and he supported a goatee instead of a beard. On his face he wore a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, much like Kenshin, though in a different way. It more looked like the smile was just faked instead of a smile that looked like it shouldn't exist at all.

"Dumbledore!" he called out as he walked up the small hill, that same fake smile still there. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," said Dumbledore. Kenshin leaned to Hermione.

"What does—"

"Blooming means good, I suppose, no better way to describe it," she answered. "It's not a word normally used, unless referring to flowers."

He nodded as Karkaroff said, "Dear old Hogwarts." He looked up at the castle. "How good it is to be here, how good…Viktor, come along, into the warmth…you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

Karkaroff motioned for one of his students to come closer. As he passed, Ron whispered, "Harry—it's _Krum_!" They began to file back into the castle, but Ron wasn't finished yet. "I don't believe it! Krum, Harry, _Viktor Krum_!"

"We know," Kenshin said, starting to feel a little tired for some reason.

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione impatient.

"_Only a Quidditch player_?" he went on, staring at the two of the incredulously. "Guys—he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

Kenshin held up his hands, trying to avoid a rant. "Hey, sorry, keep in mind I don't know much about it. The game was amazing, but I still don't understand the fascination since I don't know much. I probably will soon, though."

In response, he earned google eyes.

"Wow…you just said a lot."

"Um." An awkward statement.

As they passed, they saw a bunch of sixth year girls searching their pockets as they headed to the Great Hall, all talking at once.

"Oh, I don't believe it, I don't have a single quill on me—"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"_Really_," said Hermione, exasperated.

Couldn't they just wait until they actual had a writing utensil before asking? Lipstick rubbed off.

"_I'm _get his autograph if I can. You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?" Ron said. "Or you?" he added to Kenshin. He shook his head.

"Nope," said Harry. "They're upstairs in my bag."

Ron groaned.


	8. Chapter 8

Hiya. Here's the eighth chapter! It's really long. No one reviewed my last chapter. =[ Where are my lovely reviews? I really hoped I haven't started boring you. Oh, and I'm so mad at myself--I practically made Kenshin and Hermione and pairing! ugh. If they are, it won't come in this year though. Well, enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Eight

The four of them went to breakfast early the next morning. Although it was still around eight, there were already several others there, lazing around. Everyone of them was examining the Goblet of Fire. There was a thin golden circle around it, ten feet in every direction. It looked a little like a trip wire, which was something Kenshin had the misfortune of coming across once (and dodged it by some divine miracle), but he knew it wasn't. It was the Age Line Dumbledore had been talking about.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked some third-year.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she answered, still looking towards the goblet. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry and Kenshin had to agree—it made the most sense. For a moment, he toyed with imagining what it would be like, watching his name come from the goblet. But, nah, he'd be horrible, unless he was allowed to use his katana. "I would've if it had been me…wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

Someone laughed. Turning around, along with the others, he saw the twins and Lee running down the staircase, looks of extreme excitement decorating their faces. Oh, what were they doing this time? Not that he minded…it was always entertaining.

"Done it," said Fred, whispering to the small group of four. "Just taken it."

"What?" Ron said.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains."

"One drop each," said his twin happily. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Hermione, the voice of reason. Kenshin wasn't quite sure; there was brilliance in the simplicity. Most people would've tried to think of some very complicated way, but something as easy as an Aging Potion might have been overlooked. Maybe. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

"Ready?" said Fred as the three completely ignore her. "C'mon then—I'll go first—"

Fed pulled a slip of paper would of his pocket reading the words _Fred Weasley—Hogwarts. _He walked out the edge the line, stopped, smiling, probably for dramatic effect. Then he stepped over the line.

For a honest moment, Kenshin thought it had worked—he wasn't the only one. Most people looked rather surprised. George gave a cry of triumph and went after his brother. The consequence happened a moment later; there was a sizzling sound, the kind that happens after water begins to boil, and the twins were thrown out of the circle. They landed ten feet away from the Age Line, twenty feet away from the goblet, and suddenly had identical, bright white beards. The two laughed along with everyone else in the hall—Kenshin included, though his was considerable quieter than the others. Hermione looked at him, both surprised and pleased. A laugh from him was rare.

"I did warn you," said Dumbledore in an amused voice as he ended the hall. He looked his two students up and down. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

The two went off for the hospital wing with Lee, all three still laughing loudly. Kenshin sat down at the table for breakfast with his friends. The others were still laughing as well and his faded to just a small smile. He _really _needed to learn to lighten up a bit. Oh well, he would in time. Hopefully. No, get that thought of your head! He would most definitely learn to lighten up in time. He had to.

Quickly, he did a double-take, looking up at the ceiling. Were those _bats_? And there were pumpkins in every corner, huge ones. For a second, he felt completely bewildered, then he remembered the holiday everyone was talking. Halloween. Sure, he'd heard of it before on the TV the few times he watched it and his mom explained it to him around the age of four, but he'd never actually celebrated it before. So those were jack-o-lanterns.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," said Dean. Kenshin tuned back into the conversation, curious. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Harry shook his head. When Kenshin looked back at Slytherin, he found the guy immediately—a troll was a better description than a sloth, but that was just his opinion.

"We can't have a Slytherin champion!" said Harry in disgust.

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," added Seamus. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"Listen!" said Hermione as the sound of cheering floated over from the entrance hall. When he turned, he saw a girl he met not too long ago walking back into the Hall, smiling but embarrassed.

"Well, I've done it!" she said, sitting down next to them. "Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Ron.

Harry asked, "Are you seventeen then?"

"Course she is," said Ron. "Can't see a beard, can you?"

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor is entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

Kenshin stayed quiet, not sure what to say, so he decided the best was nothing at all.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina with a smile.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus. A few Hufflepuffs glared as they passed.

After they finished eating, Ron turned to them and asked, "What're we going to do today?"

"We haven't been down to Hagrid's yet. And you still have to meet him outside of class." Harry nodded towards Kenshin, who looked up. Yeah, he hadn't met Hagrid yet, even if the other three kept on saying that he would. Well, this would be interesting, if he was anything like he was when he was teaching.

"Okay," said Ron. "Just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."

Hermione was behind him and he wasn't quite paying attention, so he jumped when she suddenly said, in her cheeriest voice, "I've just realized—I haven't asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet! Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?"

"What are the chances of him joining?" Kenshin asked. Harry and Ron laughed a little. Not that he actually meant that to be funny, it was an actual question, but oh well.

"Not a lot. But seriously," said Ron in exasperation. "What is it with her?"

"Hey, Ron," said Harry. "It's your friend…"

From the entrance hall came the Beauxbatons students. With them, of course, was the girl Ron couldn't stop staring at the night before. Their headmistress put them in a line and one by one, the students put their name in the goblet.

"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" mumbled Ron as the girl put her name in. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "Hang around, I suppose…Madame Maxime's staying to judge, isn't she?"

"It would be a waste of time if they left," Kenshin said. "Wouldn't it?"

After all her students finished, Madame Maxime led them back out onto the grounds. The sound of metal rattling against metal announced Hermione's reappearance. The box of S.P.E.W. badges was in her hand.

"Oh good, hurry up," said Ron and they hurried down the stone steps, out onto the lawn. He kept his eyes on the Beauxbatons students. They were sleeping in the carriage, apparently, which was discovered as they arrived at Hagrid's hut. The horses that Kenshin still couldn't think of a good size comparison for were in a padlock next to it.

"'Bout time!" said Hagrid after Harry knocked several times, flinging open the door. A dog (Fang, was that what he was called?) barked from inside. "I thought you lot'd forgotten where I live!"

Kenshin blocked out what Hermione said next because all he could do was stare at what his professor was wearing. The suit was hair and brown and the tie was checkered yellow-and-orange. On top of that, his hair was greased back into two bunches. The entire get up was, for lack of a better word, horrible.

"Erm—where are the skrewts?" Hermione asked.

"Out by the pumpkin patch," said Hagrid. "They're gettin' massive, mus' be nearly three foot now. On'y trouble is, they've started killin' each other."

"Oh no, really?" said Hermione.

"Yeah," said Hagrid mournfully. "'S' okay, though, I've got 'em in separate boxes now. Still got about twenty."

"Well, that's lucky." Hagrid missed the sarcasm in Ron's voice.

Then the large man noticed Kenshin for the first time. "Oh," he said, looking down. "Sorry, Himura, didn' see you there." His face flushed—sure, he was smaller than the others, even Hermione, but he wasn't _that _small. "I was wonderin' when I'd see you down here."

"Oh, ah, hi." He wasn't quite sure what to say. The door shut behind them.

"So what do yeh think of Hogwarts?" he asked, ushering all of them into seats around the table. Kenshin found himself freezing up for the first time in weeks. It'd been a while since the attention was fully focused on him. He didn't like it. "How're yer classes?"

"I like it here," he said, because it wasn't like there was anything else _to _say. "And the classes are interesting."

"Mus' be hard, joinin' in yer fourth year."

"I'm doing fine." _Come on, guys, can't at least one of you save me from talking?_

No one came to his rescue. "I'll be honest—I wasn't expectin' you ter look like this. Mind, I wasn't quite sure what I was expectin' in the firs' place."

Kenshin shifted uncomfortably, still wishing that someone would save him. Maybe they just found watching him squirm to be amusing. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Most people don't expect Asians to have red hair."

"That was a bit surprisin', I'll admit," he said. "But once Dumbledore told me you were the—" He cut himself off.

"They know," he said quietly. Hagrid relaxed a little. This was ridiculous. "Can I ask how many teachers Professor Dumbledore told?"

"On'y the ones you were suppose' ter have," he answered.

"Oh."

There was a very awkward lull where no one quite knew what to say. It ended though, when Harry shifted in his seat, causing his elbow to bump into Kenshin's side.

"Oro!"

Suddenly the other three teenagers laughed as Kenshin's face flushed in embarrassment for the second time. He really had to stop that, but it never seemed to leave him. Even during his days as Battousai, he'd done when caught by surprise. Katsura accidently did it twice, the traitor (he stubbornly refused to say his name, even in his head, no matter how childish it was) did it once, and Tomoe did it all the time after she found out. Said it was cute. And now he _still _couldn't cut the habit. Damn it.

Once the laughter died down, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were able to steer away and bring the conversation to the Triwizard Tournament. Luckily this didn't involve much participation on his part, though he did say something once in a while. They ended up having lunch there. Kenshin had politely declined the offer of food, saying he wasn't hungry, and this turned out to be a good thing—that beef casserole wasn't beef casserole. Overall, it was an actually nice way to spend the day, even if the end left Hermione a little cranky when Hagrid refused to join S.P.E.W., saying it wouldn't be good for the house-elves.

"I'll come with yeh," said Hagrid as the other four prepared to leave. "Jus' give us a sec."

Hagrid retreated to the back of his hut and searched for something inside some drawers. None of them were really paying attention, so the terrible smell that floated out was a bit of a surprise. Coughing, Ron asked, "Hagrid, what's that?"

"Eh?" He turned around, a bottle of some kind in his hand. "Don' yeh like it?"

"Is that aftershave?" said Hermione, making Kenshin wonder what exactly aftershave was. After debating in his head for a bit, he decided against asking—it didn't seem overly important.

"Er—eau de cologne. Maybe it's a bit much." Yes, it really was. "I'll go take it off, hang on…"

He walked off.

"Eau de cologne?" said Hermione. "_Hagrid_!"

"And what's with the hair and suit?" said Harry.

"Maybe he's trying to impress someone?" said Kenshin. "But I don't know—it's Madame Maxime!"

"What?" said Ron. He pointed out to where Hagrid stood talking to her, giving her a look similar to a little kid crush—Kenshin had that same look when he was around seven, because he liked Kaoru, a girl in town who was his age.

"He's going to the castle with her!" said Hermione incredulously. "I thought he was waiting for us!"

Together, Hagrid and Madame Maxime walked up to the castle, the Beauxbatons students trailing after.

"He fancies her!" said Ron. "Well, if they end up having children, they'll be setting a world record—bet any baby of theirs would weigh a ton."

They left the cabin, letting the door shut behind them. It was dark, darker than Kenshin had realized. And it was cold. He drew his cloak around himself, trying not to shiver.

"Ooh," said Hermione. "It's them, look!"

The Durmstrang students were walking up from the lake, Krum at the side of Karkaroff and all the other students struggling to keep up. Kenshin felt a little bad for them—it must suck, being in the shadow of the headmaster's favorite.

When they entered the Great Hall, they saw that the Goblet of Fire was now sitting in front of Dumbledore's empty chair. Fred and George sat at the Gryffindor table. They seemed to be taking the beard incident rather well.

"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred as the four friends sat down.

"So do I!" said Hermione. "Well, we'll know soon!"

The Halloween feast took ages—mind, it always seemed to take ages, since he never ate much. This had started when he was still Battousai, in the earliest year. Everyone was always trying to keep a distance from him, no one sitting next to him, giving him frightened glances every once in a while. Because of that, he'd started skipping meals or eating a little later than everyone else in the kitchen, with only Okami has company if she was there. She was nice enough to never mention in and only talk to him about other things, never trying to tell him to eat more, especially since there was never much by that time. Since then, he'd never really been able to eat much.

But this meal seemed to take an exceptionally long time.

Finally it was over. The noise of the Hall died down the moment Dumbledore stood. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff sat on either side of him, tense. Ludo Bagman was grinning widely. Mr. Crouch looked a little bored.

"Well," said Dumbledore. "The goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimated it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go into the next chamber." He motioned to a door behind him. "Where they will be receiving their first instructions."

With a sweep of his wand, all the candles except the once in the pumpkins went out, making the lighting in the Hall very dim. The Goblet of Fire was the brightest thing in the room.

"Any second," whispered Lee Jordan from not too far away.

The flames in the goblet suddenly turned red. Spark flew from it. In the next second, a line of flames shot up and a burned piece of paper came out of it—there was a universal gasp throughout the room. Dumbledore caught it and held it at arm's length. The flames turned back to their original blue-white.

"The champion from Durmstrang," he read, voice resounding through the silent Hall. "will be Victor Krum."

"No surprise there!" shouted Ron over the shouts of the Hall.

"Bravo, Viktor!" said Karkaroff as he passed, so everyone could hear him. "Knew you had it in you!"

Once all the applause went down, the Hall refocused their attention back onto the goblet. It once again turned its flames red. Dumbledore caught the second paper.

"The champion from Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore. "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted. It was the pretty one Ron was always gapping at.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," said Hermione. It seemed a bit of an understatement, Kenshin noticed, since several of those not selected had dissolved into tears.

Silence fell. The goblet's flames turned red. Dumbledore caught the paper for the final time.

"The Hogwarts champion," he said. "is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table exploded with noise, shouting in happiness as every one of them stood. Kenshin could understand why, too: the Hufflepuff house got no recognition. The Sorting Hat had told him that he was too unique for that house, and it made sense why—"hard worker" just seemed like a label put there to give them at least _something. _So he supposed it was good that Cedric had won even if, like all Gryffindors, he'd hoped it would someone from his house.

"Excellent!" said Dumbledore as the noise died down again. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

Suddenly Dumbledore stopped speaking as the goblet's flames turned red for a fourth time. A long flame shot from it. Another piece of paper flew from it. Dumbledore's hand went out to catch it. He held it out and started at the name. This caused a very long pause. Kenshin felt a horribly ominous feeling where he knew exactly what the name would be. A moment later he proven—

"_Harry Potter_."

Correct.

-----

Ron sat, listening to the stony silence of the Hall, shocked. Up at the teacher's table, McGonagall stood up and whispered something to Dumbledore. Harry turned Ron, Hermione, and Kenshin.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said numbly. "You know I didn't."

Of course he didn't. Why would he? And why, if Ron knew he didn't, was he angry? It was irrational, but it flared up inside of him anyway. Another thing his friend got that he was left in the dust with. Another reason why Ron would be left in his shadow. This was ridiculous. No, why the hell would anyone want to put his name in that anyway? It wasn't like there was anything to gain from it. But this meant Harry would have put it in himself. Yeah, that was probably it. He could have at least _told _him how he did it, though. Then they could've tried together.

But no, he was left here. Again. Left once again in someone's shadow, just like the rest of his life. As usual, no one would see Ron, they'd only see Harry. And more so now than ever. Goddamn it. Why didn't he tell him how?

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called for the second time. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," whispered Hermione, pushing him slightly. She would believe him. Of course she would. And so would Kenshin, probably. This was ridiculous.

He watched as Harry walked up the isle, still with that look of shock. He was probably faking it. Yeah, probably. If he acted excited, it would be too obvious.

A trickle of doubt worked its way into his head as Dumbledore said, "Well…through the door, Harry." Then he turned and dismissed the rest of the Hall.

Everyone stood in a haze of confusion. By now it had sunk into the rest of Gryffindors and they immediately began talking of a party. What if Harry really didn't put his name in the goblet and Ron was angry for nothing? No, that probably wasn't it. His _friend _probably just found a way and decided it would be fun not tell him. Yeah, that was it. Maybe.

"I can't believe it," said Hermione quietly as the trailed behind the group of chatting housemates. "How is this possible?"

"I thought there could only be three?" said Kenshin, sounding confused. Of course he was—it wasn't like he knew what was going on. That layer of understanding wasn't there for him. But it was there for Ron and it was there for Hermione. They just had different views. "How come Harry's there too?"

Hermione just shook her head, equally mystified. Ron didn't bother to say anything; he was too busy trying to figure out how the hell Harry pulled this off and why he decided to keep it a secret. This wasn't like him, but there was no other way it could possibly happen.

"I can't think of who would have put his name in," said Hermione. "You-Know-Who couldn't have done it…could he?"

In response, the other redhead shrugged. The three of them reached the common room. After they gave the password, they entered a common room celebration. The noise was deafening. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kenshin wince. Ron just stared at the party, not really taking it in.

"Come on, let's get out of here," said Hermione to the two of them. Ron shook his head.

"I'm tired," he said automatically, despite being so strung with energy that he doubted he'd be able to sleep at all. "I'm going up to my dorm."

Hermione was worried, biting her bottom lip as she looked him up and down. He just ignored her and started to walk away. Struggling through the crowd was difficult, but he made it. No one really tried to stop him. He wasn't _important _enough to bother talking to. The dormitory was empty. A small miracle. A moment later though, Kenshin came up. Ron turned over pretending to be asleep. He heard the other redhead moving around, then stand up, where he paused.

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking Ron a bit by surprise—it wasn't a question he'd normally ask.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, still turning away. "Just tired."

Kenshin hesitated for a second, then left. Ron turned onto his back, staring at the top his canopy, waiting for Harry to come in. It was a little under half an hour before he did. Ron sat up and looked at him, forcing a smile.

"Where have you been?" Harry said. Ron looked at the banner he had tied around himself.

"Oh, hello," said Ron. The tone sounded bad, even in to his own ears. Maybe he was being a little irrational. No, of course he wasn't. He had reason. Harry took the banner off and threw it to the corner. "So, congratulations."

"What do you mean, congratulations?"

"Well…no one else got across the Age Line. Not even Fred and George." This sounded low, and he knew it. "What did you use—the Invisibility Cloak?"

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have gotten me over that line," said Harry, but Ron already knew that. What the hell was he doing here?

"Oh, right," said Ron. "I thought you might've told if it was the cloak…because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?" _Ron, shut up, what the hell are doing?_

"Listen," said the friend he probably wouldn't have within the next few minutes. "I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."

Ron felt his eyebrows go up. It almost felt like someone else was using his body.

"What would they do that for?"

"I dunno."

_Seriously, idiot, what are doing to yourself? _"It's okay, you know, you can tell _me _the truth. If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get in trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh?" Yeah, money he wouldn't get no matter how much he needed it. "And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either…"

_But you can die. What am I doing? _"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" Harry said, sounding angry for the first time.

"Yeah, okay," said Ron, skeptical, even if only half of him was. The other half knew Harry was tell the truth. But which half was right? "Only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would've seen you…I'm not stupid you know."

"You're doing a really good impression of it," snapped his friend. Well, now his not-friend. This was so _stupid_. Harry was right, maybe. Which half was right? The Hermione inside of him was telling to shut up, but he decided not to listen.

"Yeah?" he said. "You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."

Then he pulled the hangings shut, still wondering if he was right or wrong.

------

"Are you sure it's safe here?" said Hermione, looking around nervously. Somehow they ended up in the forbidden forest—not too far in of course, they could still easily see the grounds through the threes.

"Yeah, we'll be fine," said Kenshin, lying on the grass. Hesitating, she wondered if she join him. Then she thought _oh well _and did. "You're the one who suggest we get out. And we'd be caught if we were in the castle."

"We'll be in much worse trouble if we're caught out here."

"We won't be."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Trust me. We'll just dodge people before the come our way. And curfew's at eight—it's only six-thirty."

Well…he did have a point. Even so… "This is slightly unlike you," she said.

He just shrugged. "I've been wanting to do this for ages. We're so rarely out here."

"I guess…" She still felt a little nervous.

"Dake rirakkusu," he said. She looked down, slightly surprised. This was one of the first times he'd ever spoken to her in Japanese. He turned to her with a smile.

"What?" she said. Then he laughed and she found herself smiling, too.

"Just relax," he said. "That's what it means. Just relax."

"You sound so much more natural in Japanese."

"Well, it is my first language. Why does English have to be so hard?"

"I find your language hard."

"I suppose."

"Out of all the places in Hogwarts, why did you choose here?"

"Because it's away from everything…from all the people. If you weren't here, I might go another few feet in."

"Why?"

"Can't let myself get rusty, right?"

"Rusty with what?"

"My katana."

He sent her another smile. This really _was _relaxing—she found herself not worrying about Harry at the moment because she could do that later. She could do that when she saw him, once everything died down, when the party upstairs ended. When she saw him, then they'd talk. She knew this wasn't his fault, that he didn't put his name in, and she wished the rest of the school saw that too. Her friend never got off easy, did he? But right now…right now she allowed herself to think about other things.

"You have it?"

He nodded. "Dumbledore let me. As weird as this sounds, I can't sleep without it. I suppose I'm a bit like Moody—wasn't the word you use to describe him? Paranoid?" She nodded. "Anyway, so he let me. Even so, I've only been able to practice a few times and never for long, so I've been meaning to come out here."

To this, she found herself slightly surprised. "You have? When?"

"The area at Ron's house where they practice Quidditch. I'm quiet, so no one notices me. I'm happy Dumbledore let me, because that means at least one adult trusts me."

There was a short silence. "It must have been hard," she said softly. There was no reason to elaborate.

"It was easier than it should have been. After a while, you find yourself getting used to it. It was after that it was hard. Everyone knew what I looked like. There aren't many people in Japan with bright red hair and everyone knew about this." His hand moved up to his scar. "That's why I agreed to come here, when Dumbledore offered. I thought it would be better."

"Is it?"

In reply, all she earned was a simple shrug. Another silence. It wasn't awkward, but she wanted to break it anyway. She didn't know how.

Finally, she turned to him and said, "Can you show me?"

And he turned to her, curious, that dead look gone completely. "Show you what?"

"What you're like with a sword, if you have on you."

"I do."

She smiled. "Can you show me?" she repeated.

After a moment of trying to decide, he stood. She followed. They faced each other. "I suggest you move out of the way," he said. She did so. He pulled for something on his waist and mumbled the spell used to remove the Invisibility spell. Instantly, there was a sheathed sword in his hand, just like ones of the Japanese cartoons she watched as kid. Never in her life did she think she'd see a real one.

He whispered something that she couldn't catch, but she refrained from asked what. He put the sheathed sword to his waist.

What happened next she could barely follow—the movements were so clean, but so fast, like they weren't there at all. She found herself laughing in delight because this was so amazing, such a bizarre experience. Every once in a while, he'd pause, asking if she was getting bored, but she shook her head and told him to continue. After an hour, though, they agreed to stop, so they could leave the last twenty minutes to get back into the castle.

Once again, the sword was made Invisible and put back against his waist. They left walking side by side. For the first time, she saw him looked completely alive—cheeks slightly pink from the exercise, making his already very obvious scar even more so, a smile on his face, talking back to her for once, fully into the conversation. They avoided the subject of what happened at the feast and avoided the subject of where he used his sword in the first place. Instead they spoke about simple subjects, normal ones—the classes, the homework, the skrewts, how unfair Snape was to Neville earlier that day, about Fred and George as she told him about all the pranks they pulled. She told him all about her experiences with Harry and Ron—the Chamber of Secrets, the Philosopher's Stone, the troll in the bathroom—even if she originally said she'd wait for the other two as well.

When they got back to the castle, they ran into no teachers, dodging into different corridors occasional to keep their distance. The party had ended by the time they returned just a little after curfew and she only spared herself a moment to wonder how many house-elves it would take to clean the place.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said.

"Yeah, goodnight." He gave her one last smile before they left.

It wasn't until she was laying in bed that night, listening the other girls talk, that she allowed herself to worry about Harry and everything that would happen. Then she rolled on her side and let sleep take her.

When morning came, they'd talk.


	9. Chapter 9

Hi, here's chapter nine. The beginning of Hermione's part wasn't originally supposed to turn out the way it was supposed to, but oh well. That's always what I imagined happened anyway. Well...there's nothing I can really say about this chapter. R&R. You know, should I turn Frailty into a series of oneshots in Tomoes view? Up to you guys. Even if only one person read it...

I don't own RK or HP.

* * *

Chapter Nine

The next day started one of the most awkward months of Kenshin's life—not even the revolution compared to this. At least then, there was no group of friends to get stuck in the middle of, and no classes, so he could hide away until he was needed. But here…well, he wasn't even good enough friends to pick sides (even if he did think that Ron's reaction was a little melodramatic). To counter balance that, though, he just stayed by Hermione. She wasn't in the fight, she was in the middle, so it was safest. By a long shot.

Even so, this didn't take away from the not-so-amicable feeling that came off of the two no-longer-friends in waves. That was still felt full force. It was, in an honesty, extremely uncomfortable.

Care of Magical Creatures started with more of a disaster than usual—it naturally began with Malfoy just as he arrived, his two bodyguards at either side.

"Ah, look, boys," Malfoy said to Crabbe and Goyle. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he's going to be around much longer…Half the Triwizard champions have died…how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

There was one thing that Kenshin, hard as he tried, could never understand about kids his own age—their undeniable need to ruin each other's lives. If you were going to ruin someone's life, at least do it for good reason. There were many, many good reasons to ruin someone's life and hate at first sight wasn't one of them. Then again, it was also possible that he didn't fully understand the situation. No matter what the cause, it was still stupid. Couldn't everyone just get along?

What an ironic statement coming from him.

Before Malfoy could say anything else and make the already miserable Harry's day even worse, Kenshin looked at him. There was no glare, no particularly malevolent feeling behind it, but the other boy shut his mouth and took a step away. Hagrid came out and announced the class would be taking the skrewts for a walk. Malfoy then found another person to take his aggravation out on.

"Take this thing for a walk?" he said in disgust, looking down at the boxes. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, tying a rope around a skrewt. "Er—yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Harry—you come over here an' help me with this big one…"

There weren't many left, so everyone ended up making groups of two or three. Every so often, someone was left on their own. Kenshin, Ron, and Hermione decided to stick together.

"Talk to him," Hermione deadpanned to Ron.

"No."

"You should."

"I don't care."

"Talk to him."

"I said no."

The argument continued, which meant Kenshin was dealing with the skrewt entirely on his own. The other two barely had their hands on the rope. Suddenly, the back of the skrewt exploded and it shot forward, pulling him along with it, causing him to hit the ground. He swore, though no one really noticed—not that it matter, it was in Japanese, so there was no real way he could get in trouble for it. Teachers didn't know what it meant.

"Oh, god!" Hermione and Ron ran over and yanked the leash from his hand, allowing Kenshin to have time to get up, panting. That got him out of breath faster than running around Kyoto for hours on end. Then he became aware of a pain on his side. As he looked down, Hagrid called for all the skrewts be brought back.

"What happened?" Ron asked as he and Hermione jogged up to him, both still messy from running around. Kenshin lifted his hand away from his side. The other two winced.

"You should go to the hospital wing for that," said Hermione. "That cut looks really bad."

"Nah, I'm fine," he said, even if it hurt like hell—when the skrewt dragged his, it appeared to have taken him over a rock or something similar, scrapping his entire side. "I'll fix my shirt."

Harry caught up with them (and Ron walked away), as Kenshin pulled out his wand and mumbled the spell. The fabric instantly knitted back together. Then he mumbled another spell and the blood washed itself out.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I got cut, I'm fine."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "You should go to the hospital wing, that looks really bad."

"I've dealt with a lot worse. Trust me, after being stabbed through the stomach, this is nothing. Can't you make bandages or something? I'll fix it while we walk to Transfiguration."

Hermione looked doubtful, but obligated, performing to same spell as Dumbledore did over the summer.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Who stabbed you?" Harry asked, but stopped before he said anything else.

"Someone," Kenshin said.

They all knew what it really meant though—behind one was the silent answer, _a victim._

_----_

Hermione sat in the hospital wing that Friday, trying to stop crying. Madame Pomfrey was fixing her teeth and all because of that stupid spell. Oh, she hated Malfoy! Hated him, hated him, hated him so much! And then what Snape said about not seeing any difference. This day was turning out to be horrible. And then to hear Harry and Ron yelling back at him, knowing they'd get detention from it was making it even worse.

"Just tell me when to stop, Granger," said the nurse and Hermione tried to look in the floating mirror and concentrate on what she was told to do, but all she saw were large teeth, brown eyes puffy from crying, and messy, bushy brown hair. What she saw was a girl destined to always be plain. She saw the girl who'd always been secretly envious of Lavender and Pavarti and their good looks, the kind she's never achieve. "I need to get these back to their normal size. Just nod."

Then she realized that Madame Pomfrey reached their natural length and returned to the teeth her parents wanted her to get braces for—the rest of her mouth was fine, it was just these two front ones. A moment later they were shaved down to a length that fit her mouth. She nodded.

The nurse stopped. "See?" she said. "That's better."

It was impulsive, but she asked it anyway. "Can you straighten them?" she said. Madame Pomfrey looked at her with surprise, then said yes.

All it took was five minutes—in five minutes, with the use of magic, Hermione Granger suddenly had perfect teeth. A small part of her felt guilty, because she did technically go against her parents. Tentatively, she smiled at herself in the mirror. Then that smile grew.

She'd straightened her teeth. That was it. But from some miracle, it completely changed her face. The rest of her was still the same—at the moment, her eyes were still red from crying and her hair was still bushy, but she'd changed. In the short span of five minutes, the school nurse gave her something she thought she'd never have.

The girl looking back at her was pretty.

"You've missed class," she said, catching Hermione off guard. Had stopping the spell then fixing her mouth really taken that long? "But I'm done. You can leave."

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," she said and tried her smile again. "Bye." She left, feeling quite happy. Maybe, just for the hell of it, she should thank Malfoy, too, just to leave him confused. No, maybe not.

Outside, she found Kenshin waiting for her. It disappointed her, slightly, not to see either Ron or Harry with him.

"Hi," he said, pushing himself off the wall to stand next to her. "Sorry, it's just me. Ron had to stay after so Snape could tell him about his detention and Harry needed to go to a photo-shoot or something."

So that's where they were. "Oh, Harry must have loved that."

"Yes, absolutely. He was dying from all his joy."

Kenshin smiled slightly and Hermione laughed. When she stopped, she looked up at him with a grin.

"Your smile," he said, surprising her slightly. "It's different."

"Madame Pomfrey had to fix my teeth, so I let her make them a little smaller than they were originally."

"You looked good," he said, which made her feel happy because she never expected a boy to noticed. Then again, he was considerably more observant than normal boys. "Not that you didn't already," he added quickly.

Again, she found herself laughing. Somehow this day flipped itself around. "I know what you mean," she said. "Don't worry. I'm going to go get something to eat then head down to the library. Would you like to come?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to head up to my room and then down to the forest. You can meet up with me if you want."

"If I'm out of the library before seven, I'll come."

"Okay."

"Bye."

"Bye."

They gave each other one last parting smile before they separated.

Today, she thought, had been a very good day.

------

If someone had told Harry it was possible to have his life get even worse, he would have laughed in their face, because how would that be possible?

But no, he was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Ron's mood towards him hadn't improved in the slightest and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, Hermione was right: He missed Ron. The Rita Skeeter article hadn't made matters much better. In fact, they made his time before the task hit an all time low. His hatred for her was up there with Malfoy, Snape, all Slytherins, and his life in the Muggle word. This was causing a much anticipated panic attack. It was a small one, but it was still there and growing daily.

Walking down the hallways felt like walking down death row. This happened every time. Quoting the article seemed to have become something akin to school entertainment. Classes weren't much better. The school he loved so much, the school that was his _home_, more so than anywhere else in world, was quickly becoming somewhere he hated. When he lay awake in bed at night, he liked to close his eyes and revisit the Quidditch World Cup or imagine he was with Sirius, that it was the summer and he was friends with Ron again and they were all at his new house—Hermione, Ron, Kenshin, the twins, Ginny…Cho.

Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to date Cho Chang, the girl he secretly had a crush since he faced her in Quidditch the year before. She was the year older than him and so pretty and nice. He wondered if she was a good kisser. This was something he never told anyone. He was profoundly happy that it was impossible (hopefully) to read minds. That way all of this was private—Sirius, the World Cup, Cho. They'd run into each other the other day, but it was embarrassing more than anything else.

The Hogsmeade trip felt like a godsend.

"What about Ron, though?" he said to Hermione. Kenshin stood awkwardly behind her. "Don't you want to go with him?"

"Oh…well…" Hermione blushed. "I thought we might meet up with him in the Three Broomsticks…"

"No," said Harry. Then he and Kenshin accidently locked eyes for a second and this current of silent agreement seemed to pass through them—the other boy saw this was a lost cause.

"Oh Harry, this is so stupid—"

"Hermione, let it go," said Kenshin from behind her. She turned around and shook her head, annoyed.

"I'll come," said Harry. "But I'm not meeting Ron and I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak."

"Oh all right then…" said Hermione. "But I hate talking to you in that cloak, I never know if I'm looking at you or not."

"At least you won't look like you're talking to yourself," pointed out Kenshin. "I'll be there, so it won't look like you're there on your own."

She sighed and reluctantly nodded in agreement. Thank god the redhead existed.

Entering the village with the cloak on was a relatively wonderful experience—there was no one to quote the articles, no one to sneer or whisper as he passed, no one to show their stupid, unreasonable hatred to him. It was wonderful.

"This is really cool," said Kenshin as they entered Honeydukes Sweetshop. As usual, the store was packed with people. "Some of the names aren't the best, though."

"You get used to them," said Hermione.

"Try some," said Harry, not bothering to whisper because no one could hear him over the noise in the shop. "Hermione, we should get him some chocolate."

"Yeah." She smiled widely. "Do you like chocolate?"

"I guess…"

"Then we'll get some chocolate frogs."

"How about those truffles we used to get last year the few times I came?"

"Oh, those do sound good…"

They spent about half an hour there and by the time they left, they'd convinced Kenshin to try a chocolate frog, finally pushing past his reluctance. It was a good thing he liked it (he and Hermione couldn't have finished the sweets on their own), even if he didn't eat much.

"Please take off your cloak," said Hermione as they left, getting aggravated by repeatedly bumping into him. "No one's going to bother you here."

"Oh yeah?" said Harry, feeling his heart fall into his stomach, heavier than lead, as he saw _her_. "Look behind you."

Rita Skeeter and her photographer were leaving the Three Broomsticks. Luckily they passed by the three of them without stopping, or even looking. Even so, Harry needed to back against the wall of Honeydukes to avoid getting hit by her hideous handbag. Once they were finally getting out of earshot, he said, "She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task." He ignored his feeling of horror.

"I wonder what she's going to write about that," said Kenshin and Harry quietly thought to himself, _well, at least if I die, I won't need to deal with it. _

"She's gone," said Hermione, watching her retreating back. "Why don't we go and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, it's a bit cold, isn't it? You don't have to talk to Ron!"

"What's butterbeer?"

Harry smiled and said, "You'll see. It's good, trust me."

Kenshin shrugged.

"You two go get a table," said Hermione as they entered, the warmth hitting them immediately. "I'll go get drinks. Three, I guess?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Three, right?"

The other boy nodded. Together, they walked carefully to the crowd, past students wearing those badges and past Ron, Fred, George, and Lee. Harry fought with the impulse to hit Ron in the back of his head. They sat down at a deserted table towards the back. Hermione came back, the three butterbeers in hand and slipped one underneath his cloak. It tasted wonderful, as glorious as he remembered.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked as Hermione pulled out her S.P.E.W. list.

"It's warm," was the answer he got. What did that mean?

"You know," said Hermione, looking around at the crowd. "Maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, right. Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?"

"When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!" Kenshin looked down at his butterbeer. "You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens?"

"No idea, ask Fred and George."

There was a silence as Hermione looked down at her list.

"You must wish you were still one of them," Kenshin said after a while, looking out at all the other laughing and chattering students. It took a moment for Harry to realize the statement was directed at him—Hermione was lost in her own little world, where all house-elves were free and happy and drowning in Galleons and every hour they were served big cupcakes.

"Just a little," he answered. There was a pause. "You do too, don't you?" He received no answer, but he didn't expect to. Hesitantly, he asked another question. "Before well, you know." It would be weird, he thought, to directly say what 'you know' actually meant, since he wasn't sure how to word it. "What did you used to do? Go to school?"

Kenshin shook his head. "I lived with the man who taught me how to use the sword. He also home-schooled me."

Harry blinked. "Then how did you interact with other people?"

A pause. "He liked sake, a drink in Japan. Every once in a while I would go with him down to the town. I wasn't with anyone other than him all that often. That's why I'm not good with people."

Harry nodded; it made sense. Even so, that sounded like a pretty lonely existence. "Up until I came here," he said, almost to let the other boy know that he wasn't alone in that loneliness. "I lived in a cupboard under the stairs. At school, my cousin was the head bully, so not many people were friends with me."

Kenshin looked him straight in the face, eye to eye, despite the cloak. "Ganbatte kudasai," he said. "Good luck, Harry, on the first task."

A shiver ran up his spine.

-----

When they were in the library the next day, helping Harry do research on dragons, a _tap tap _sound came from the window. On instinct, he looked up, only to see the school owl he'd used hitting one of its legs against the glass, perched on the sill outside. He stood up. Both Harry and Hermione glanced at him. Once the window was open, the owl stuck its leg out, the one the letter was attached to. A smile lit up his face. The owl flew away the moment the letter was taken off. It's wings joined the sounds of the November night.

"Who's the letter from?" Hermione asked.

"My teacher," he answered. Here at Hogwarts, he always referred to him as teacher, especially around Hermione, because 'master' sounded a little strange. "From back in Japan. It's been two months since I sent it. I wasn't expecting an answer." The other two gave him an odd look.

Then he tore open the envelope.

_Kenshin, _

_Stop apologizing. I don't hate you._

_I hope this owl makes it back without dying. I was expecting a letter earlier. And of course you made friends, you idiot. Believe it or not, you can be a likeable person when you bother to talk to people. If they know about your moronic mistake, I don't care, that was your decision to tell. It's good to know you can at least trust someone other than me. Don't worry about that teacher. I have no idea why he didn't treat you like any other student. You'd think he'd jump at the opportunity. They'll see sooner or later that you're no threat. Stop trying to convince me of something I already know. _

_The headaches are something you'll most likely never get rid of and it's wishful thinking to believe they'll ever go away. It's up to you to find an excuse. I can't help you there. The fact that it's still bleeding three years after you got, though, is unnatural. If worst comes to worst, say it's cursed. They're wizards, they'll believe it. _

_Japan's new government is working better than the other one, something that's already apparent. The only people that miss it are those politicians that are still alive. They miss the money. _

_I brought the flowers, kid. I got the best that I could find and lay them on the grave that read Himura Tomoe. If she could see it, she'd be happy. Normally I don't give advice like this, but please try not to dwell on what happened and be a fourteen-year-old. You're in school training to be wizard and you have friends. Let yourself be happy. _

_I never met her, but if Tomoe saw you the way you are now, I imagine she would be proud. _

He hadn't signed his name at the bottom, but Kenshin barely noticed. All he could do was stare at the last sentence. That was something that master normally…Drunk. Of course, that's why, he was drunk. Either that or his nice streak never ended. But he couldn't tear his eyes away. He found himself reading and rereading it, burning it into his memory incase he ever lost this letter.

_I never met her, but if Tomoe saw you the way you are now, I imagine she would be proud. _

Automatically, his hand went up and touched the scar, the line Kiyosato had given him and the line Tomoe had given him. The slashes across his face. The constant reminder. He stopped reading it. Instead he stared at the words, gaze blank. What a ridiculous letter. His master was drunk. It was nice and that last line…there was no other way. That wasn't something he'd write sober.

A hand waved its way in front of his face. Blinking, he snapped himself out of it and looked up. Harry and Hermione stared back.

"Hm? What?"

"We're leaving," said Harry, standing. "Krum just arrived and his fan girls will be here in a minutes."

"Coming," he said, grabbing his books and the letter. As they left, a gaggle of girls were about to enter.

"What did the letter say?" Hermione asked as they all fell into step with each other.

"Just giving me news from Japan," he answered, which was partially true. He was talking without listening to himself. "Apparently the new government is working really well. I guess I didn't fight the war for nothing."

"That's good," said Harry and an uncomfortable silence followed. His eyes were trained on his shoes. "How long do you think it took that owl to get here?"

Somehow he managed to fully pull himself back to reality. "I sent this letter out September and now its November. I don't know how long he took to reply. Maybe it took a month or so."

"Probably," said Hermione. Another pause.

"Harry," Kenshin said, looking up (literally, since he only went up to the bottom of the other boy's cheek bone). "Why don't you poke its eyes out or something?"

"Yeah, with what?"

"Good point."

A third silence. No one tried to break it this time.

_I never met her, but if Tomoe saw you the way you are now, I imagine she would be proud. _

Inwardly, barely allowing himself to think it, he wondered if that was true.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten...and either the reviews aren't going through on my email or on the site or you aren't reviewing me anymore. D: Next chapter is the Yule Ball! Yay...anyway. If and when those reviews go through, I'll write more one shots for Frailty if you said so. You know, does anyone even read these?

I don't own RK or HP.

* * *

Chapter Ten

"Is it just me," said Kenshin, pointing down at the dragon below. "Or does that one looked worse than the last three?"

When he didn't get an answer, he looked side to side and saw that both Ron and Hermione's faces had gone white.

"Th-that's a Hungarian Horntail," said Ron, eyes saucers on his face. "Harry has to go against _that_?"

"Oh god," Hermione said, hand over mouth in horror. "I hope he makes it."

Ron just shook his head, face not changing. "I can't believe I thought he put his name in himself…he'd never sign up for this. I'm such an idiot."

"You think?"

By now Kenshin was getting somewhat confused, mainly because no one was telling him anything. From what he managed to gather, though, this dragon was _indeed _worse than the last three. Disquiet ran through him—he really hoped Harry would come out okay. But of course he would…he had a strategy. Sort of.

When the whistle was blown and Harry entered the enclosure, the audience erupted into cheers, the contagious excitement making the other students momentarily forget their hatred towards him. Kenshin didn't yell anything, and neither did the two on either side of him—Ron looked vaguely sick and Hermione was biting her nails. Down below, Harry shouted the Summoning spell. The Hungarian Horntail looked down at its tasty snack. A moment later, a whizzing sound cut through the air. Everyone turned around.

A lone broomstick came hurtling through air. Kenshin gave a relieved smile; at least it started out okay. Immediately, Harry swung his legs over his Firebolt and took off.

The challenge went brilliantly. His movements were so fluid and, though he still didn't know much about Quidditch, he could at least tell that Harry was an amazing flier. And yes, apparently he did have a stragedy and it was _working_. The crowd whooped and cheered as he dodged and dived, swerving upwards and teasing the dragon in circles. It was fascinating, even more so than the World Cup in his opinion. When the Horntail sliced Harry across the shoulder, Kenshin joined in the universal gasp around the stands.

It ended as quickly as it started the noise of the crowd was deafening. Everyone stood up and Hermione hugged him, hopping up and down with glee. Ron was clapping. Without realizing it, he hugged Hermione backed (though he didn't jump), smiling widely in relief. Harry just survived a dragon. Amazing.

"Come on!" Hermione shouted over the dim of the crowd. "Let's go down to the medical tent!"

Kenshin and Ron nodded and they hurried down the stands, trying to avoid people. Several times one of them knocked into another person but barely paused long enough to yell a sorry that the other person probably didn't hear anyway. The other two were out of breath by the time they reached their destination. The three darted inside, nearly running into Harry as they did so. Ron backed down a little, face going from euphoria to awkwardness.

"You were brilliant!" said Hermione immediately. "You were amazing! You really were!"

Kenshin nodded and gave another smile. "I'm happy to see you made it out," he said.

But Harry wasn't paying attention to either of them, staring straight past to Ron.

"Harry," said the other redhead. "whoever put your name in that goblet—I—I reckon they were trying to do you in!"

Couldn't he think of anything better to say instead of just pointing out the obvious?

"Caught on, have you?" Harry's voice was cold. "Took you long enough."

Kenshin stood in the middle of the two of them, realizing it was probably good to start backing away. He inched slowly to the back of the tent and waited. It was their moment to renew their friendship after all.

"It's okay," Harry said before Ron could apologize.

"No," said Ron. "I shouldn't've—"

"_Forget it_."

Ron smiled a very nervous smile and Harry smiled back.

Then Hermione burst into tears. Kenshin to it as his cue to leave. It didn't take too long—only a few seconds really—for her to join him.

"So their friends again?" he asked as she wiped away her tears. They headed back to the stands to hear Harry's score.

"Yeah," she sniffled. "Kenshin, why are boys like that? You're one, so you should be able to answer!"

"Oro?" he said, then realized he just made his "squeak" noise. He'd been trying very, very hard to stop saying that in replace of 'what' or in surprise but apparently it came back. There wasn't going to be a way for him to get rid of this goofy quirk left over from early childhood, was there? "I—I mean, what," he added quickly, blushing.

Hermione just laughed, reminding him very strongly of Tomoe. "Is that a Japanese word or something?" she said.

Quickly, he shook his head. They reached the inside of the tents. The scores were going up: _8…_that was good…_9..._even better…_9…_again, very good…_10_…wow, a perfect…_4…_that was cheap.

"He tied for first," he said as the crowd cheered and Hermione grabbed his arm in happiness again. "And no, it's not a Japanese word. It's just something I did as a kid. It never went away."

To this she nodded, her look of utter happiness still there. With a gentle tug of the arm, she led him away, back towards Harry and Ron. He detangled his hand from hers but she didn't seem to notice.

"I'm so relieved," she said quietly, a statement meant only for him, as the backs of the other two boys came into sight. "I really…I was really afraid it would go wrong. I never wanted to say it, but I was so afraid for him. Sorry…it's not like I could say it to him or to Ron, who was so convinced that Harry was in the wrong."

"That's fine," he answered. They caught up with the other two boys. Rita Skeeter stalked by them, anger coming off of her in waved. Kenshin winced. Anger was a terrible feeling. "Hi."

"Hey," said Ron immediately. "Did you see that Karkaroff gave Harry a four? I can't believe it!"

"I know," said Hermione with a nod. "It was unfair. He gave Krum a ten and he came off much worse for wear."

Kenshin resisted the urge to ask was 'worse for wear' meant. He decided to stay quiet, knowing that this was _their _moment, the three of them who'd been through so much with each other. For now, he'd allow himself to be left out. He didn't mind.

Once the excited chatter stopped and they were inside, Harry filled Ron in on what Sirius said of Karkaroff. Every so often Hermione would add something and after a few nudges from her and Harry, Kenshin did too. Together they headed up to the Owlery, where Harry wrote a letter to his godfather. Ron caught Pigwidgeon. The laughing returned. Though he may not have been friends with the other three for all that long and even though he still kept himself slightly separate, he was happy that it was the four of them again. With his words, Ron tried so hard to repair that.

When they reached the common room a little later, it was an explosion of congratulations. Since it was in such a confined space, the noise hurt worse than it did back at the task. After grabbing some food, the four of them settled into a corner to eat.

"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee, picking up the golden egg Harry captured from the dragon. "Open it Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside of it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," said Hermione automatically. "It's in the tournament rules…"

"We helped him for the last task," Kenshin pointed quietly as Harry said so only the two of them could hear, "He's right, Hermione. I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too." Their friend guiltily smiled.

"Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!"

After the eggs went from Lee to back to him, Harry pried it open. It was hollow on the inside, but it was filled with terrible screaming. Kenshin, on instinct, covered his ears from the pain. Like all his other senses, years of training as a swordsman had heightened all five of his natural one and given him a sixth, so loud noises hurt him more than it did for others. His eyes flashed because it shrieking reminded him of agony, which reminded him of killing, which reminded him of what he was. Harry snapped it shut. Relief. His eyes went back to their natural color. The headache came swiftly, but stayed, made worse by the sound.

"What was that?" said Seamus, looking at the egg. "Sounded like a banshee…Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville and Kenshin had to agree, though he doubted the champions would be treated _that _horrible so deliberately. The other boy's sausage rolls fell to the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing…maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the showers, Harry." Kenshin covered his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter.

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" said Fred. Hermione looked down apprehensively at the plate shoved in her face. "It's all right. I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch—"

Neville quickly spit out the bit of the custard cream he had in his mouth.

"Just my little joke, Neville…"

Hermione took a jam tart. Kenshin looked to Neville—he doubted for some reason that Fred was joking. "Did you get all this from the kitchens?" she asked. He mental sighed; he knew where this was going.

"Yep." Fred smile and her and went on to imitate the squeaky voice of a house-elf. " 'Anything we can get you sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful...get my a roast ox if I said I was peckish."

"People eat roast ox?" Kenshin asked, looking to Ron who sat next to him. The other boy laughed.

"No," he said. "Fred just means that if he asked, they'd get it for him."

"How do you get in there?" said Hermione.

"Easy," said Fred. "concealed a door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and—" He cut himself off. "Why?"

"Nothing."

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion." A few people laughed. She didn't say anything.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred. "You'll put them off their cooking."

Before a full blown argument began, Neville turned into a large canary, proven Kenshin's theory that Fred had not been joking.

"Oh—sorry, Neville!" Fred yelled as everyone burst out laughing. "I forgot—it _was _the custard creams we hexed—" When Neville turned back, he joined into the laughed, a cloud of feather pooling at his feet. "Canary creams! George and I invented them—seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

It was hours before anyone went up to bed. For the first time since the summer, Ginny came over to talk to them as the twins collected money and handed out order forms. People kept turning into canaries and no matter how many times, it always started laughter. Sure, the night was filled with an annoying amount of sound and the party went on longer than he would have liked, Kenshin found himself having fun.

It was a nice feeling, he decided.

----

Harry felt like crawling into a dark hole out of embarrassment as he came back from asking Cho to the ball. Her words were still ringing in her his head.

_Oh—Cedric, Cedric Diggory. _

Maybe if he'd asked her out a week ago…even a few days ago, she'd be going with him. But he hadn't been able to work up the courage. Courage. And he called himself a Gryffindor. Wasn't bravery part of the house description? He was pathetic.

When he entered the common room, he found Ron, Kenshin, and Ginny sitting in a corner. Since it was during dinner, they were one of the few people there. Ron was sitting in a chair next to Ginny. Kenshin was flopped over the couch. For some reason, a look of complete misery had worked itself over Ron's face.

"What's up, Ron?" said Harry as he joined the, sitting at the end of the couch where Kenshin's head didn't reach.

"Why did I do it?" he said, looking up in horror. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"What?"

"He—er—just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," said Ginny. Harry noticed that she and Kenshin were avoided eye contact, probably to keep from laughing.

"You _what_?"

"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron said eye, shaking his head. "What was I playing at? There were people—all around—I've gone mad—everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall—she was standing there talking to Diggory—and it sort of came over me—and I asked her!" He groaned and put his face in his hands. That so…so…stupid. There was no other way to put it. Then again…"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then—I dunno—I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it." Ginny finally let out her smile.

"She's part veela," said Harry. "You were right—her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it—but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang." _Yeah, _he added in his head, _don't worry, I embarrassed myself too. _"I asked her to go with me just now. And she told me. Who're you going with, Kenshin?"

The other boy looked up at him. "Ginny," he answered, taking Harry by surprise.

She blushed. "Yeah…I asked him after lunch." Well, that would be interesting. Then he held back a laugh, realizing something: She was a few centimeters taller than him. He was around one fifty-seven or so and she was on sixty-one. Not enough that it was particularly noticeable, but still.

"This is mad," said Ron. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone—well, except for Neville. Hey—guess who he asked? _Hermione!_"

_"What_?" said Harry, even more surprised than he was before.

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron. He started to laugh. "He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff—but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville…I mean, who would?"

"Don't!" said Ginny. "Don't laugh, he's going with someone in my year. A Ravenclaw, you don't know her."

"And she really is going with someone else," said Kenshin. Harry looked down. The other boy's face flushed. It was a day for blushing apparently. "I, uh, asked her a few days ago."

Both Ron and Harry turned to him. "Seriously?" Ron said.

"Well," Kenshin mumbled. "Besides Ginny, she's the only girl I talk to…and it wasn't until Ginny asked my out that I realized you were allowed to bring someone younger…besides, I wouldn't mind. Both she and Ginny are nice to me." Ginny smiled in an embarrassed sort of way. Well…this was awkward.

Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and spotted them. She went over, saying, "Why weren't you three at dinner?"

"Because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!" said Ginny in annoyance.

"I thought the two of you were going together," Hermione said, mystified, motioning back and forth as Ron said, "Thanks a bunch, Ginny."

Harry decided it was best to just stay quiet for the time being because he saw a bickering match about to start—it was written all over Hermione's face.

"All the good-looking ones are taken, Ron," she said. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone _somewhere _who'll have you."

"Then who're you going with?" he demanded. Harry noticed Ginny and Kenshin looking away again.

"It's none of your business," she snapped, crossing her arms.

"Aw, c'mon, Hermione, you can tell us!"

"It's none of your business," she said.

"But—"

"I already told you, it's none of your business!" She walked off, leaving an air of annoyance left behind her.

"This is getting ridiculous," said Ron. "You two are lucky, at least you can go together!"

"Wait here," he said to Ron as Lavender and Parvati walked through the portrait hole. Taking a deep breath and got up. Normally he wouldn't bother, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Parvati?" he asked. "Will you go to the ball with me?"

She giggled. What a terrible sound. Harry waited, praying that this would work.

"Yes," she said and became yet another person who blushed. "All right then."

A weight was lifted from his chest. Sweet relief. "Thanks," he said. "Lavender—will you go with Ron?" _Please work…_

"She's going with Seamus," said Parvati and they went into fits of giggling again. Thank _god _Ginny and Hermione didn't do this. Cho didn't either…no, don't think about Cho!

"Can't you think of anyone who'd go with Ron?" he said, voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"What about Hermione Granger?" said Parvati.

"She's going with someone else."

The two girls were shocked. Harry was very glad Hermione wasn't here; she'd be so hurt. She wasn't bad…he'd never get other girls.

"Oooh—_who_?"

Harry shrugged. "No idea," he said. "So what about Ron?"

"Well…I suppose my sister might…Padma, you know…in Ravenclaw. I'll ask her if you like."

"Yeah, that would be great. Let me know, will you?"

He went back to the other three. "I'm going with Parvati," he said, then turned to Ron. "She's asking her sister Padma in Ravenclaw."

Ron nodded, no longer seeming as miserable.

Harry sighed, feeling that this ball was a lot more trouble than it was worth.

------

"You didn't tell them I was going with Viktor, did you?" Hermione asked, turning to Kenshin. They were in the forest again. But she noticed it was slightly different now—he was a little further away from her. It wasn't by much, but the feeling was definitely still there. With a small sigh, she realized this was probably because she had a boyfriend now because Viktor didn't ask her to the ball, but to _go out _with him in general. "They'd laugh at me."

"Don't worry," he said. "I didn't. But, you know, they didn't laugh when they found out Ginny asked me."

"It's different," she said with a headshake. "She's Ron's sister, not someone he wants an autograph from. And they know you two aren't anything _serious_—wait, are you?"

He shook his head. "She just wanted to go to the ball and I needed a partner."

"I'm so sorry for having to turn you down, but Viktor…"

"It's fine."

There were a silence, but she didn't mind. After all, she'd noticed by now that he needed these. The quiet moments. It might have been five months, almost six, but he was still, well, shy. Not as much, though. She watched as their breath came out, visible in the cold air. It was warm enough to her, but he was shivering badly, despite the sweater and school required winter cloak they both had on.

Fifteen minutes later, something in the forest gave a loud shriek. She jumped and the boy next to her laughed.

"Hey!" she said, hitting his arm lightly. "It's not my fault. It just scared me, that's all. I hate not knowing what makes those sounds. Actually, I hate most of the things in the forest. The unicorns are fine and so are the centaurs and I don't know a lot of the creatures, but I'm always afraid I'll come across a boggart or something in here. Or something that's honestly dangerous."

"What a boggart?"

"It's a creature that hides in dark places and went realized, it will change into the closest person's worst fear. They can't do anything more than that, though."

"Did you ever come across one?"

"Yes. Last year the entire Defense Against the Dark Arts class did. It was fun because you're supposed to think of something really funny you can change it into and with a spell, make it that."

"What did it turn into for you—oh, sorry, that might be personal."

"It's not, just a little embarrassing. My boggart takes the form of Professor McGonagall telling me I failed her class. If you had to guess, what would yours be?"

For a moment, he was quiet, thinking. Then his hand started to go up to his face, to his scar, but he let it fall. "Spiders," he answered. "Since it probably couldn't have me drowning."

It was a lie and she could see it, but she didn't mention that she could tell. "Ron's worst fear was spiders, too. They're nasty, I'll admit, but I don't see how you can be so terrified by them."

"When I was seven," he said. "I was sparring with my teacher. He hit my harder than he meant to and I went flying backwards. I went right into a bunch of spider—thousands, if I had to guess and I'm not exaggerating—and they immediately started to crawl all over me. Teacher got me out and together we managed to get them all off. I cried for about an hour out of fear and during the nights that followed, I got nightmares."

She shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold. "I can see why you're scared. That's horrible. You should be happy you aren't allergic, Kenshin."

"Yeah. Hey, you need to met up with Kr—I mean Viktor, right?" She nodded. "Then I'm going to head back to the common room. You're meeting in the library, right?" Another nod. "C'mon, I'll walk you until we have to part."

With a small sigh, exhaling his breath in a puff of steam, he said the Invisibility spell and fixed his sword his waist.

Silently, they walked back.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey, what's up, people? I had a lot of trouble with this chapter and I don't know why. =/ Anyyyyyyyyyyway, I'm exhausted since it's nearly ten at night on a school night. I hope you all had a good Christmas break! I wrote a second oneshot for Frailty. Um, read it if you want?

I don't own RK or HP.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Ginny dragged him out onto the dance floor the moment everyone was allowed to join in. Kenshin felt ridiculously nervous. The Yule Ball was just some school dance, right? Well…it was crowded and stiflingly hot despite the frigid December air that blasted against the windows. Not to mention he also had a hand around a girl's waist, same as most guys there. And Ginny was a very pretty girl. Not to mention Ron's little sister.

"You don't know how to dance do you?" she asked. He shook his head. At least it seemed like very few other the other couples there had any idea what they were doing, not just him. "Here, I'll show you."

She placed him in the loose stance everyone else was dancing in and went through the steps with him. The entire time he kept his eyes to his feet, not wanting to step on hers. He heard her laugh, which made him even more nervous. To make matters worse, he only liked her as a _friend _and he was slightly worried that her brother would take it differently. They were standing rather close together…But Ron hadn't said anything at the time, so maybe it was fine. Hopefully.

"See?" she said after he finally looked up with a still-rather-nervous smile. He was beginning to get it, a little. Kenshin only knew _one _dance and he wasn't very good at it, considering it was taught to him for about an hour when he was eleven. It had been raining so he and Tomoe were stuck inside. She suddenly had the harebrained idea to teach him how to dance. Despite his many protests, she taught him anyway. But at least that hadn't been for anything serious, just out of boredom. Not like this. "It's easy."

"Where do you learn how to do this?" he asked, looking around at the large mass of dancers around them. There were so many people.

"My mom taught my brothers and I when I was ten," she said. Someone's elbow hit her in the back and she and Kenshin bumped into each other. He blushed. God, this was embarrassing. "We had to go to one of our cousin's wedding. It was so boring."

"Oh."

"Have you ever been to a wedding?"

"No."

"How about any other form of a party?"

"Not really. Can we go join Harry and Ron?"

"Oh, sure—" She cut herself off . Kenshin blinked. Then she said, "If you want to get off the dance floor, then let's go outside."

"Hm? Why?" He turned around and his face fell. "Oh. They're fighting again. Okay…I guess outside it good."

The grounds looked amazing—real fairies lit up the many bushes and there was fountain a little down the path. It was aglow with their soft yellow light. Statues were set up. The roses were enchanted into bloom. Here and there were couple sitting on benches. There was one open, so she led him over and they sat down. This was so awkward. How was it that he could kill thousands, but couldn't find the right words to say to a friend-girl he'd brought to a dance?

"I really hope everything's going to be okay with them," she said and he understood—knowing her brother, he was going to blow this completely out of proportion. "I _knew _he'd get mad about this. But oh well, I suppose it couldn't be helped. I really hope everything will be fine in the end, though…"

Kenshin cocked his head to one side, looking at her quizzically. "Why would Ron get mad anyway? Hermione was afraid they'd laugh, but she never said anything about him getting, well, angry."

"You haven't figured it out?" she said, staring at him. Ugh, he hated it when people did that; when you didn't know something, even when it wasn't completely obvious, they still made you feel like an idiot. "He fancies her! Not that he notices, but still."

He stared at her incredulously. "Really?"

"Yeah!" she said, frowning. "I think it's just a crush, though. Even so, why do you think he gets so jealous?"

"I don't know?" It was more of a question than a statement. She shook her head. Did Ron seriously like Hermione? He never noticed before. "Does Hermione know?"

Once again, Ginny shook her head. "No, I don't think so. And she doesn't like him, so I figured it would be better if I didn't mention it."

No, she liked Viktor Krum instead. No wonder Ron would get angry. Wait, did he realize they were dating rather than just going together like he and Ginny? _Great_, he thought, _I really hope this doesn't turn into a messy situation. _On a bench not too far away, a couple were glued to each other.

"Have you ever kissed anyone, Kenshin?" she asked suddenly. He looked over, startled.

"Um, Ginny," he said, biting down his bottom lip nervously. "I'm, uh, not looking for a girlfriend."

Immediately she laughed, shaking her hand at him to dismiss the statement. "That's not what I meant," she said. "I was just wondering. It's always so awkward to sit somewhere and watch two other people snog, right?"

"Um, snog?"

Ginny pointed to the couple. "What they're doing."

"Oh."

"So have you?" _Please don't let this discussion go where I think it's going to go._

Getting nervous again, he said, "No. Unless CPR counts."

"What's CPR?" she asked, confused. Oh, yeah, they probably had a magical method of doing it.

"It's when you help someone breath again," he said. "By putting your mouth against theirs and breathing into them. I don't know how to explain it." CPR was something he knew how to do all too well—he'd given it to several people before and had it given to him four times. It was unpleasant, to say the least, waking up to that. Especially when it was another guy.

She nodded, but Kenshin knew she still didn't understand. "I don't think that counts," she said. Then, because she probably realized he wouldn't ask, she went on to say, "And I've never had a kiss either."

Another bout of awkward closed in around them. Neither of them spoke. Well, at least it seemed like she wasn't going to try. He didn't exactly feel the need to kiss his friend's little sister. He did quite like living, he had to admit.

"Let's go for a walk," she said finally. He nodded. They walked around the small paths aimlessly for a little while, heading in the opposite direction when they heard undesirable noises coming from certain bush patches. Couldn't they find somewhere more private to do that?

They hadn't made it very far before Hagrid's voice floated towards them.

"…knew you were like me," he said. Ginny and Kenshin paused before they walked around the corner. He looked around for way of escape, but there was no way out. A movement caught his eye. Behind a reindeer statue and directly across the path stood Harry and Ron, motion to them to get back. "Was it yer mother or yer father?"

"I—I don't know what you mean, 'Agrid," Madame Maxime said. Kenshin looked back and forth, but there was a couple in the bushes, Fleur Delacour and her boyfriend, and Hagrid. No escape. He shook his head.

"It was my mother." Hagrid's voice was soft. "She was one o' the las' ones in Britain. 'Course I can' remember her too well…she left, see. When I was abou' three." Kenshin looked to Ginny, who looked back, eyes wide. She seemed to have a different understanding than him. "She wasn' really the maternal sort. Well…it's not in their natures, is it? Dunno what happened to her…might be dead for all I know…"

Next him, Ginny started to fidget. After years of waiting, he'd become a professional; he was standing completely still.

"Me dad was broken-hearted when she wen'. Tiny little bloke, my dad was. By the time I was six I could lift him up and put him on top o' the dresser if he annoyed me. Used ter make him laugh…"

Kenshin felt a tug on his sleeve. Then Ginny whispered in his ear, "The two Durmstrang students are gone. We can leave."

With one last look back at Harry and Ron, who were now listening intently, he slipped around the opposite corner and doubled around back to castle.

"Do you know what he was saying?" he asked once they were completely out of earshot.

"I think…" said Ginny. "But Harry and Ron will probably be able to tell you for sure…it sounded like Hagrid's mother may have been, er, some form of non-human from the way he was talking. A giant maybe…you should ask my brother later."

They were hit with a blessed blast of warmth as they entered the castle. The amount of people on the dance floor hadn't let up, though it was no longer slow dancing. Now every couple seemed to be doing their own thing. Despite his hatred of crowds, he let Ginny take him out again. At some point Harry and Ron slipped in again, but he was kept where he was. But, well, it turned out not to be as bad as he thought.

"Thanks for coming with me," Ginny said, raising her voice over the music.

"Oh, um, you're welcome?"

"I wouldn't have been able to come otherwise," she continued as the clock hit midnight. Everyone gave one last cheer as the Weird Sisters stopped playing. Kenshin winced horribly at the sound. People slowly started drifting out. "Let's take our time going back."

"Why?"

She looked at him and for one of the first times she wasn't wearing a smile. "Ron and Hermione were fighting earlier," she said grimly. "There'll probably be at least a short continuation up at the common room."

He nodded; as much as he didn't want to, he acknowledged it made sense. So they did as she suggested and went back slowly. They weren't the only ones, either—everyone seemed to be taking advantage of this rare midnight wandering, free of curfew for the time being. Neither of them spoke much. When they reached the corner leading to the Fat Lady, Ginny stopped him.

"How do you say thank you in Japanese?" she asked.

"Arigatou," he answered.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said, sounding rather nervous. "I—I don't want a boyfriend or anything, I actually like someone else, though you're really adorable, probably one of the most adorable boys I've ever met, but I've always wanted to do this after being taken to a dance or ball or somewhere fancy or something so—so—"

Utterly bewildered, he said, "What?"

She took him completely off guard when she pressed her lips to his. For a moment they stayed like that, frozen into place. Kenshin's eyes were wide and staring blankly past her. Then she pulled away, face bright red.

"Arigatou," she said, the word sounding terrible with her accent. "For that…and bringing me to the ball."

Without giving him a chance to answer, she ran away. He lingered for a second longer, stuck in the same position, staring at the wall, but not really seeing it. Then he shook his head and walked back to the Fat Lady, where he gave her the password. None of his three friends were inside. Not that he would tell them anyway…he was keeping this to himself. Even if hell rained down upon him, he wasn't going to tell Ron he just kissed his sister, though it was actually the other way around and he didn't want the kiss in the first place.

After all, it he wasn't suicidal.

--------

Hermione, Ron, and Kenshin sat down at a table in the Three Broomsticks, craning their necks to see what Mr. Bagman was saying to Harry. Hermione couldn't see either of their faces, though, as they were too far away and other customers kept moving in front of them. Finally she gave up and looked away, sipping some of her butterbeer.

"What did he want?" said Ron once Harry was seated with them again.

"He offered to help me with the golden egg," said Harry. Hermione frowned; that wasn't something a head of a ministry department should do.

"He shouldn't be doing that!" said Hermione indignant. Really, that was very bad for someone of his position…even if he didn't seem to care about it in the first place. "He's one of the judges! And anyway, you've already worked it out—haven't you?" She looked at him suspiciously.

Harry back down at her gaze and said, "Er…nearly."

"Why's he bothering to help you?" said Kenshin, but Hermione didn't give Harry a chance to answer, by now thoroughly annoyed at the whole thing.

"Well," she said. "I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat! I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much!"

"He's not, I asked," said Harry. Oh, the gall of that man.

"Who cares if Diggory's getting help?" said Ron. Though Hermione secretly agreed, she didn't say it; after all, she was the one who was all about fairness.

"Those goblins didn't look very friendly," she said. "What were they doing here?"

"Looking for Crouch, according to Bagman," said Harry. "He's still ill. Hasn't been into work."

"Maybe Percy's poisoning him," said Ron. "Probably think if Crouch snuffs it he'll be made head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"That's not funny," said Kenshin flatly and Hermione felt very glad that for once she wasn't the only one to not enjoy the humor of things. "I know you're just joking, but considering how many people there are here, someone might not realize that. Don't put your brother in the position of political intrigue. It's not exactly fun being accused, trust me. I've seen it too many times."

Ron gapped at him and Harry stared. Hermione, deciding it steer away from any awkward moments, said, "Funny, goblins looking for Mr. Crouch…They'd normally deal with the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Crouch can speak loads of different languages, though," said Harry. "Maybe they need an interpreter."

"Worrying about poor 'ickle goblins, now, are we?" said Ron and Hermione felt a spike of anger. "Thinking of starting up S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins?"

"Ha, ha, ha," she said, crossing her arms. "Goblins don't need protection. Haven't you been listen to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?"

"No," said the three boys together. Hermione huffed.

"Well," she said. "They're quite capable of dealing with wizards. They're very clever. They're not like house-elves, who never stick up for themselves."

"Uh-oh," said Ron, eyes widening as he looked towards the door.

Rita Skeeter, that evil, evil woman, had entered. The robes she was wearing were the kind of yellow that shouldn't be used anywhere unless in a children's coloring book. Her nail didn't match; they were painted pink. Her photographer was with her and together they ordered drinks and went to look for a table. Hermione glared as she came closer. As they drew near, their fast-paced conversation became intelligible.

"…didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he got with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights…what nonsense…he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Game and Sports, Ludo Bagman…' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo—we just need to find a story to fit it—"

"Tying to ruin someone else's life?" said Harry loudly, causing several people along with Rita Skeeter herself to turn around.

"Harry!" she said, beaming. Hermione fought the urge to slap the woman. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join—?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," said Harry. "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?"

In response she raised her eyebrow and said, "Out readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my—"

"Who cares if he's a half-giant?" yelled Harry and for once Hermione didn't try to stop him. Rita Skeeter was getting what she deserved. "There's nothing wrong with him!"

During the conversation, the bar had gone extremely quiet. Madame Rosmerta didn't seem to notice that the cup she was filling was spilling over onto the counter. The smile Rita Skeeter was wearing faltered a bit, but it was barely noticeable. From her bag she extracted an acid green quill and said, "How about giving an interview about the Hagrid _you_ know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"

The woman had no shame. Hermione barely registered as she stood up.

"You horrible woman," she said, quaking with anger—horrible didn't even begin to describe it. "You don't care, do you, anything for a story, anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman—"

"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about thinks you don't understand," the other woman said, eyes cold. It would have been rather intimidating if it weren't for her outfit. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl…_not _that it needs it—"

"Stop talking," said Kenshin in the same flat tone, standing up as well. Ron followed suit. But she had to do a double take when she realized his eyes were gold and her breath hitched for a moment. At least his hair was in his face; they last thing he needed was for a stranger to notice—for _her _to notice. "You're embarrassing yourself more than anyone else at the moment. But if you like sounding like a lying, hypocritical fool, keep going. It's up to you."

Rita Skeeter stood there, shocked as if someone had slapped her across the face. Well, he almost did, even if it was through words. One thing was painfully obvious, though—the woman wasn't used to being insulted. Every eye was on them. Kenshin's eyes faded back to their normal blue. He winced.

"Let's go," said Hermione before Rita Skeeter could recover, "c'mon, you three…"

As the left, people's stares followed them. Just before the door swung shut, Hermione saw that Rita Skeeter had her quill out and it was zooming across the page.

"She'll be after the two of you, next, Hermione," said Ron in a worried voice.

"Let her try!" said Hermione, determined that even if an article came out, she would stay impervious to all consequences, making them null and void. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get back her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid…"

"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," said Ron. "I'm serious, Hermione, she'll dig up something on you—"

"My parents don't read the _Daily Prophet_. She can't scare me into hiding—Kenshin?" Suddenly she became aware of an absence at her side. She, Harry, and Ron turned around to see him standing a few feet back, shock still.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, taking a step closer the boy. One look at Ron's face told Hermione he'd realized the same thing.

"D-dig something up?" he stuttered. His face had gone white. "H-how much do you think she'll be able to find?" He was panicked.

"Look," Harry said. "I'm sure she won't be able to find anything out about…_that_. The only people who know are the four of us, Dumbledore, and a few teachers and no one will say anything. If she gets anything, it'll be made up. There's no record of you. You know that, right?"

He nodded numbly. Hermione walked over and took both his hands, tugging them lightly to pull him forward. It was surprisingly easy. Now that all the color had drained from his face, the scar stood out even more than usual—the red-ish pink X marring his skin.

"Come on," she said softly. "Let's go get our Hagrid back."

---------

Dumbledore sat in his office, waiting for a knock on the door. For the first time year, he wasn't waiting for another teacher or someone from the ministry. Instead he was waiting for a student who he realized he should have talked to a long time ago.

"Come in," he said as the sound he was waiting for came. The knob turned and a rather short redhead stood in the doorway. There he hesitated. "You're allowed to sit down, Mr. Himura," he added.

"Hello, sir," the boy said nervously, taking the seat across from him as instructed. "You wanted to see me?" Dumbledore could also see the burning question of, _what did I do?_

"Yes," he said, nodding to the boy. "I wanted to ask how you've been adjusting to living here at Hogwarts."

"Oh, it's been fine, sir," he answered, eyes looking everywhere but the desk. Dumbledore noticed the portraits were watching the boy curiously. "I'm, um, happy you let me come here."

The old man chuckled softly. "You don't need to be so nervous," he said. "You aren't in trouble, though I did hear about what happened before we met at Hagrid's. They were very true words, but it was not a wise decision."

"I know that," he said quietly. "I didn't realize until after I'd already done it, sir. Is…is that why you called me here, sir?"

Dumbledore inclined his head and sighed. "No, Mr. Himura. I, as I asked in my first question, am only wondering how you are adjusting to Hogwarts. Your grades are good and you seem talented. You've gotten into no trouble. And I know that you've been around Harry, Ron, and Hermione often. But besides that, I know nothing."

"I-it was a little hard, sir," he said nervously. He felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. "At first, but it's fine now. I like it here."

He let out a small smile as he surveyed his student—he didn't look much different than he did in Japan (if anything, he'd gotten thinner and that wasn't good), which worried Dumbledore slightly. He was hoping to see a change in facial expression at least, but he wasn't even given that. Himura's eyes still seemed dead and his expression, when not speaking to one of his friends, was still blank or at most afraid. The boy was fidgeting.

"It seems as if you would like to say something," Dumbledore said gently, feeling that he needed to be a little careful about how he handled the boy. Not for safety, no, by now he'd realized that he was harmless for the most part. It was more for Himura, who according the teachers who had him, he was a bit like an abused puppy when around anyone other than the few he talked to. "You're allowed to speak." For a moment the boy's eyes widened.

"I…you don't think Rita Skeeter will find anything on me, do you?" he asked. Dumbledore let out a little sigh.

"You don't need to worry about that, Kenshin," he said, knowing it would be best to use his given name for this. "I can promise you this will stay a secret, just between your teachers, your friends, and myself. I won't let it get out."

"Okay, sir," he said, looking just a little relieved. "Thank you, sir." He hesitated again. "Can I ask you a favor, sir?"

He raised one eyebrow, not expecting the question. "If you would like," he answered simply.

"If it isn't too much trouble, sir," he said, "would you please ask Professor Moody to stop making it so obvious who I am…was? He likes to ask my about 'the assassin in Japan' and if anyone in my class decides to come out of their self-absorbed bubble formed from being a teenager, I'm sure that at least one Muggle born would make the connection, sir."

Dumbledore smiled, for "self-absorbed bubble" was a very good way to describe the everyday teenager. "I will," he answered. There was a silence. "You may leave now, if you have nothing else to say, Kenshin."

Slowly, the boy stood. "Thank you, sir," he said one last time and left, the door shutting gently behind him.

Kenshin Himura was a truly odd person.


	12. Chapter 12

Hey. =] Here's chapter twelve! I just put up a third oneshot of Frailty (I'm having fun writing those for some reason and if you're reading them LET ME KNOW so that I feel the need to continue) and I'm about to put up my fourth. This also has much angst. Um..........I love the way that Kenshin's four paragraph dialogue came out at the end. Go history! Oh, and this is over 7000 words.

I don't know RK or HP.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

"You won!" yelled Ron for about the seventh time as the four headed back alone to the second task. Harry was grinning, obviously elated the whole ordeal was over. Hermione had her one arm around his shoulders and the other around the Kenshin's as Ron walked backwards in front of them, grinning like a maniac. The happiness was slightly infectious. If only Victor had come with them, but he couldn't, as he wasn't allowed to enter the Gryffindor common room and had to go back to the ship. "You won!"

"I didn't win," he said, and Hermione smiled because yes he had. "I tied for first."

"But that's still first place," said Kenshin. "And it's still a win for Hogwarts."

"Stop trying to be so modest," said Hermione, positively beaming. This was _his _day and it was only the four of them, so he was allowed to brag. "You displayed _moral fiber_, after all."

Harry laughed and Ron said, "I guess being a good person is worth it occasionally."

"Oh, Snape would love to hear that," he said. "_He's been crossing lines since the first day he arrived…_"

"But who cares what he thinks?" said Ron. Harry nodded in agreement. They reached the Fat Lady. "Pig snout. I wonder how big the party will be this—"

They were met with an explosion on sound. Hands were reaching out and pulling them in. Hermione felt like he was drowning from all the people—there were so many faces and voices, but she accepted all the screams with a smile, though she noticed Kenshin immediately slid away. Ron, though, looked absolutely euphoric from all the attention.

"I can't believe you're the one Krum would miss most!" said Lavender, looking at her with envy. Then something hit her—she was going to get this for the next few weeks, wasn't she? Oh well, she'd deal with it later. "You're so lucky!"

"You were amazing!" shouted Neville to Harry. Someone shoved a butterbeer in her hand, nearly spilling it all over her robes. It was Fred.

"Do I have permission to mercilessly tease you from now on?" he said over all the noise. She groaned. Yes, she was _definitely _going to get this for the next few weeks.

Off to her right, she saw Ron getting swarmed by a group of girls, but he was thriving off it. Others swarmed her as well. But at least she wasn't as surrounded by Harry—he had so many people around him that she lost sight.

"No!" she said as George came up behind her, signing "Hermione's Krum's girlfriend, Hermione's Krum's girlfriend," over and over. "Oh quiet!"

Some sixth year she didn't know walked up to her and lamented about how lucky she was to be the famous Quidditch player's girlfriend. Gradually other people drifted over, especially girls, who all said about the same thing as the sixth year. Boys just teased her. Oh, teenagers were so infuriating! Eventually she couldn't take it anymore and, making an excuse of wanting some food, she left, half fuming, and walked to Kenshin. It wasn't like she could go to either of her other friends since one couldn't escape, the other didn't want to, and the one available was in a corner, completely ignored like he generally was—all the girls who spoke about how positively adorable he was never actually came up to him. Which was good, she supposed, since he froze up around people he didn't know.

"Hi," she said with an automatic snap. He took a step back, _what did I do? _written on his face. Realizing what she did, she apologetically said, "Oh, sorry. I've been doing that for the past half hour."

"It's fine," he said with a half-hearted smile. "I feel bad for you."

She laughed. "In all honesty, I feel bad for myself too. Being around all those girls reminds me why I hang out with boys—albeit slightly annoying ones. How did you turn out so…mature?"

A shrug. That genuine smile on his face was gone. And it had definitely been genuine—she could tell the difference by now, and so could the Harry and Ron, both of whom had the emotional capacity of the teaspoon. They hadn't known him too long and he was infuriately difficult to read, but they could tell. Not that long…wow, had it really only been seven months?

"What's wrong?" she asked, both curious and wary, not sure if she was prying into anything personal.  
"Tomorrow is February twenty-fifth," he answered. She waited for an elaboration but he didn't offer any. After a moment he looked down at the floor, bright red hair shading his face completely, and said, "I completely forgot until about five minutes ago." His voice was so small she barely heard him.

"Well…" she said, no wanting to ask no matter how interested she was. "Then this crowd must be getting to you more than usual. Why don't you go up to your room?"

"I would," he answered, looking around, "but there's nowhere to get through. I might be abnormally small, but I don't think anything short of mouse would be able to get through all those people."

She laughed and nodded. Yes, she'd noticed that too. "Well, I suppose this corner is good enough for now. No one seems to be bothering us."

"Do you want get out of here?" he asked, eyes still on the ground. What happened? He'd been so happy earlier. "I'm pretty sure we won't be missed."

Hermione looked around before answering. Well, both Harry and Ron were a little preoccupied and she didn't want to deal with anymore laments and taunts until tomorrow. "Sure," she said and silently he turned around. She followed.

With the lack of people and their body warmth, the hallway was chilly. She shivered at the sudden temperature change. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"An empty classroom maybe," he answered. "I don't have my katana, so there's no point in going outside. Too cold." She nodded in agreement.

It was quiet between them as they both looked for an unused room. It was about twenty minutes before they found one and somewhere around five o' clock. Despite the early time, she knew the party would go on for a while. It always did.

"Do you think Rita Skeeter is going to get any information?" he said as they sat on the teacher's desk.

"The article hasn't come out yet," said Hermione. "I'm starting to doubt it will come out at all. And I don't really care what she writes about me—but I can see why you do."

"Dumbledore says he won't let her get anything about that," he said, looking straight ahead. "But she found out about Hagrid and Madame Maxime's conversation and I didn't see her there. _That's _what's worrying me."

"I'll find her," she said, determination coming back. "And I'll make her regret saying all those terrible things about Hagrid and Harry. I shudder to think about what she'll write next."

"It might be selfish," said Kenshin bluntly. "But I hope it isn't about me. Then my whole reason for coming here will be reduced to nothing. I'm sick of being called a demon."

Surprised, she turned to him. Of course, she heard him called many terrible names on the media back in the Muggle world, but hearing him say it right in front of her made it completely different. The simple fact that anyone could call him a demon was absurd—he was so, so…sweet. There was no other way to put it.

"If Dumbledore says she won't find anything, then she won't find anything," said Hermione gently, hoping that she could at least _slightly_ reassure him. The happiness and excitement of the day had leaked out of the both of them. "Harry's right; if she writes something, it will probably be fake."

"Why do people call Voldemort You-Know-Who?" he asked, abruptly changing the conversation. On instinct, she winced at hearing the name and then realized how pathetic that was. "By refusing to say the name of what they fear, aren't they just making it even scarier?"

"Yes, you're right, I suppose."

"Do his followers even call him that?"

"Sometimes, it's usually the Dark Lord, though."

Another short silence fell. "You know," he said, "when I was in Japan, even other units in the Choushuu clan—that's the one I was part of—called me Battousai and I hated it. I can't see how someone could want that."

"Because You-Know-Who likes to be feared," she answered and looked to him. His eyes still hadn't moved their gaze from the wall. Then she sighed and decided that curiosity had gotten the better of her and it was time to ask. "What happened on February twenty-fifth?"

"It was the day my mom died."

She didn't ask any questions after that.

--------------

_That's the most she could come up with_? thought Kenshin a the next day as he worked on his potion, still thinking about the _Witch Weekly _article. That was the BEST Rita Skeeter could come up with for him? And to think he'd been panicking. Then again…this could also cause some trouble for Hermione, Harry, and Viktor Krum. He'd been in about two sentences in the entire article. In truth, he was rather relieved—the last thing he wanted was the headline **Famous Japanese Assassin Attending Hogwarts**. Oh, that would be just dandy. The thought just topped off the rest of this wonderful day.

Snape dismissed the class. Along with the rest of the students, he shuffled out the door, meeting up with Hermione and Ron.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked, looking around the crowd of students still trickling out the door.

"Still inside," Kenshin answered, looking down at the floor. He'd been doing that all day, though he doubted anyone other than Hermione had noticed. Or at least he hoped not. But this wasn't like waking up from a nightmare, where he could force a smile until he felt better and have it become real and relaxed. Instead it was an entire day of automatically going through his routine while trying not to think about _her. _"I think he dropped something, but he's probably listening to Snape and Karkaroff."

A moment later, Harry popped up next to Hermione, who jumped.

"You won't believe what I just heard," he said, panting slightly.

"What is it?" asked Hermione sharply.

It was a short explanation, but due to the many, many side questions and add-ins to catch Kenshin up on a few things (who really only replied with nods and headshakes), it took all the way until Charms to finish.

Ron shook his head, mystified. "Do you think it's some Death Eater thing?" he said.

Hermione frowned at him. "Why would _Snape _be involved then? He's a Hogwarts teacher, Ronald! The two of you just love to suspect him."

Today they were working on the opposite of the Summoning Charm, the Banishing Charm after a long interlude of other spells. Suddenly, Neville accidently picked up something much heavier than a pillow—since it was behind him, Kenshin couldn't tell what the exact object was—and it was flying rather quickly straight at him. Immediately he stopped his instinct to duck; if he did, then either Hermione or Ron would be hit directly in the back of the head. So instead he just—

When it hit him, it hit him hard. His hands flailed in circles for a moment before he finally lost balance and toppled forward.

"Oro!"

Last moment Harry managed to grab his shoulders, Kenshin's nose inches away from the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" said Neville as Harry put him up right. He was seeing stars. What the hell _was _that thing? After a quick moment's inspection, he discovered what it was: A bronze candlestick. No wonder it hurt so badly. "I really am, I mean it, I'm sorry, really, I am, sorry, so sorry, um, um, sorry, and um, are you hurt?"

"Don't worry, Neville, I'm fine," he said with a strained smile as his vision slid back to normal focus. "Just aim a bit better next time, okay?"

The other boy made a sheepish smile and went back to his work. Kenshin turned to his friends.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Hermione said.

"Yeah," he answered. "It's fine."

After another five minutes of the other three asking the same question and Kenshin answering the same answer, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their conversation. It was getting hard to concentrate on putting his cushion on the stack (which he was doing surprisingly well with) and ignoring his headache. The one good thing about the headache, though, was that it temporarily took his attention off of Tomoe.

But what comes up must come down, he supposed. The thoughts came back. It didn't help that it was snowing outside. Would this ever get out of his head? But no…that would be a bit like betrayal, wouldn't it? To get it out of his head would be to forget and he never wanted to do that. Betrayal, huh? He was a bit too used to that word for his liking. Back then it had turned into a whole web of trust and betrayal, hadn't it?

He killed Kiyosato, so she went to take revenge on him (the first trickle of blood went unnoticed) with Iizuka's help. He'd fallen for that of course, just happy that someone was nice to him (the second trickle of blood, worse than before). Then, naturally, she had to go and develop maternal feelings for him (third and still he didn't notice) right when she was about to go and hand him over to his would-be murderers and jumped to his defense (fourth—why did his face tickle?). Forest of Barriers, the cold winter wind, losing all his senses but two in the course of an hour (fifth—really, why was it itching?). Finally the last fight, when she'd threw herself in front of his would-be killer so that he didn't die and he couldn't see her since he had completely lost his vision so with the momentum of his katana he couldn't tell until the last possible second and in his sleep he could still remember when the blade pierced—

"You're bleeding!"

Hermione's shrill surprise brought his out of his own head and suddenly the blaring pain pulsing from cheek was worse than his head. His hand snapped up to cover it, but he could already feel the blood seeping through his fingers. Oh no, this was bad. The entire class was looking at him. Slowly, feeling dread pool in his stomach, he pulled his hand away. His palm was soaked and red; he could feel even more drip down his neck to his shoulder where it pooled on his collarbone. Without needing to be told, he knew his eyes suddenly flashed yellow and the headache that exploded next was completely unrelated to Neville and the candlestick. He winced. Black started to close in on him and he fought with all his might to keep it away.

"Someone bring Mr. Himura down to the hospital wing," he heard Flitwick say in alarm. "Quickly!"

"I'll take him, Professor," all three of his friends said at once.

What Professor Flitwick said slipped right by Kenshin because even though he was aware something was said, but he couldn't make out the words. Three pairs of hands grabbed him and pulled him from the room. His was having trouble breathing, feeling on the verge of a panic attack. This hadn't happened in a while. Damn it, this wasn't good…

He was in the hospital wing. When his eyes opened, he saw Madame Pomfrey, Hermione and the boys standing over him. The nurse looked perplexed. After blinking a few times to clear his vision, he sat up to find he'd been lying on a cot. From the stiff feeling on his face, a bandage was on his cheek. The lighting was different, no longer looking like midday. What the hell? Had he fainted? If so, how long had he been out? He wasn't the type to pass out. The last time he'd done it was when his master had to bring him back to reality during a spar and accidently hit him so hard he banged his head on a rock. And the only time he ever fainted from something that wasn't injury-related was when something really freaked him out, like spiders. No! Don't think about that! Anything but those crawling, horrible, eight-legged _things_!

"Glad to see back amongst the living, Himura," said Madame Pomfrey, handing him a class of water. It wasn't until he took the first sip that he realized how thirsty he was. "I was starting to think you'd never wake up." Her hand went to his forehead, pushing back his bangs. "At least your fever's broken."

"Fever?" he said, thoroughly confused by now. "Wait, what time it is?"

"It's five o' clock, Kenshin," said Hermione, sitting down on the bed next to him. Oh…okay, four hours was a long time but not as long as he'd been afraid—"And February twenty-sixth."

His eyes widened. "What? I've been out for thirty two hours?"

"Yeah, gave a us a right scare, too," said Ron. "You passed out on us yesterday and we couldn't wake you up."

"We had to get Professor Moody from down the hall," said Harry. "We didn't know what else to do. And when Madame Pomfrey tried to touched your face, you'd mumble something in Japanese."

This had never happened before. This was something that he never _expected _to happen before. It made no sense. He'd killed thousands, he shouldn't pass out at the simple sight of his own blood! Hopefully this wouldn't reach Master. He'd be ridiculed so badly…probably. Actually, he wasn't so sure anymore. When it came to the subject of Tomoe, nothing mean was ever said to him. They just lightly treaded around it until they found a more suitable conversation.

"What did I say?" They shrugged. "How did I get the fever?"

Madame Pomfrey came back with another glass of water. He mumbled a thanks. "It's only speculation," she said, "but according to Granger here, you hadn't worn anything warm at the second task two days ago. And then when that scar on your face started bleeding, it wouldn't stop, so you lost a lot of blood. The cold had already lowered your immune system so you probably picked up some cold from another students. When you lost all that blood, it wore down your system even more and it let the cold take over. And thus, you had to fever." She shook her head in disbelief. "I thought I'd never see a stranger scar than Potter's over here, but the giant X on your face gives him a run for his money."

"Do you," he said tentatively, "know why it started bleeding?" Next to him, his friends were staying quiet and he was thankful for that; his head still hurt and he couldn't deal with more than one voice at once.

"No idea," she answered. "I couldn't find any reason. It looks like it's been there for at most a month, though it's been longer since you had it when school first started. I tried to heal it with magic—" She did WHAT? "—but it didn't work, so I had to slap a bandage on it instead."

Oh, thank god. As much as he hated it, the scar was the last thing she'd ever given him and he didn't want it to go away. He became aware that Madame Pomfrey was still talking.

"…and I really hope I don't see you in here more often," she was saying, "because those other scars on your body are pretty nasty. If I had to guess, you have knack for trouble. Well, if that's so, you picked the right group of friends. These three are in and out of here all the time." She shot them a dirty, but slightly affectionate look. What a weird woman. "I'd ask how you got them, but it isn't my right to pry into your personal life. If you stay here the night, you'll be free to go in the morning. I need to make sure your fever doesn't come back. You can talk to your friends alone now."

"Um, thanks…" The woman turned heel and left.

"You don't have to answer," said Harry once the nurse was gone, "but could you tell us if you know why your face suddenly started, um, gushing out blood."

Not sure what to do now that he was faced with the situation he'd been dreading, he did the best way out: He shrugged. The looks he received told him that his friends weren't buying it.

"Do you feel any better?" asked Hermione.

"Ah, yeah, I feel fine." He lay back down, resisting the need to shut his eyes and fall back to sleep, because yes, _he was feeling fine. _"A little out of it."

"Oh course you are!" said Ron, still leaning over him. At least he was blocking the light. "You were out for two days straight and no one knows why. I'd be out of it too if I was in that situation."

"Are you _sure _you can't remember what I said? Or what it sounded like?"

A very long pause. Finally, Hermione said, "You were mumbling, so we couldn't hear much. I think I head 'okaa' a few times, but that's about it. And something that started with 'oak', but I couldn't understand the rest."

"And 'Tome'," Harry said. "It was the beginning of something. Why, do you remember?"

It had been _Okaasan, Okaasan, me wo samase, choudai! Tomoe, okiro! Choudai, Okaasan, okiro, choudai! _over and over, exactly what he said three years ago on February twenty-fifth in Japan. It meant, _Mom, mom, open your eyes, please! Tomoe, wake up! Please, Mom, wake up! _Great, and now he was repeating it in his sleep. Well, at least he wasn't screaming in his sleep…he hadn't done that since he was seven (no, you idiot, don't think about the spiders!). And he really hoped that not-screaming streak wouldn't end any time soon.

Once again, to get out of it, he shrugged. "I know what the words are," he said. "But I don't know why I said them." _You nasty little liar. _

"If you say so…"

"I'm tired," he said automatically, wanting them to leave. And it wasn't completely a lie—in fact, he felt exhausted. "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow."

After exchanging good-nights with one another, the other three left, leaving Kenshin alone in the hospital wing. No one else was there. Eventually he shut his eyes, praying for no nightmares.

For once, his wish was granted.

----------

At the exact moment his pupil passed out halfway across the world, Hiko received an owl carrying a letter. The moment it touched down, he grabbed the envelope and tore it open; he was getting oddly worried that he hadn't heard from him in the past two months. It also didn't help knowing what day it was yesterday—the day of Tomoe's death. For Kenshin (and her, he supposed), he'd lain flowers on her grave for a second time.

Inside, the letter read:

_Master, _

_ Thanks for the flowers. I'm sorry to ask, but do you think I you could put it down on February 25th, too? If I were there, I'd do it myself. Sorry. _

_I would've come back home over break, but I sort of got stuck here. You see, there's this thing called the Triwizard Tournament, and this big competition is held between three schools and there's three tasks. My friend Harry was dragged into it (long story, I'll tell you everything when I get back).Well, anyway, I somehow got stuck going to a ball-thing that was held in honor of it and my "date" was Ron's (another friend, I only have three, it shouldn't be that hard to mix them up) sister. _

His idiot of a pupil had to go to a ball? Oh, this was good. Hilarious even, something he'd been able to make fun of him for an extended period of time. This, of course, was also good, as there wasn't much to make fun of recently. But him with a date…he could just picture the awkward dancing, Kenshin looking at his feet to avoid stepping on the girl's.

_So that's why I couldn't come back. Stupid, I know. I've been practicing though, at least four times a week day and generally on the weekends. Hermione comes occasionally, but only to watch of course. And since there's no one to fight, it's been fine. I don't black out._

_I saw a dragon for the first time. Four, actually. It was the first of the three tasks. The contestants from each school (though there were two from Hogwarts, Harry and this other boy Cedric) had to get a the golden egg from the mother. Harry did it by flying on a broomstick and confusing it. The other four got injured, but he only came out with a scratch. They were huge, taller than houses even. Not as big as the building in Tokyo or any of the other several hundred cities, but pretty close. Of course, you probably would've have sat there completely impassive and complained that you found the entire event too dull for your liking, but I still liked it. _

Hm…the last line almost sounded like the idiot student he'd taken in all those years ago (after he'd broken the boy's submissive demeanor created from his early childhood) rather than the one that came back. And dragons…no, he would've liked that too, though he wouldn't have shown it. Hiko showed excitement and liking for only the things that matter in life, like sake and Kenshin when he wasn't around and Hiko was free to worry about him.

_Besides that, everything's the same really. The lessons have gotten harder. My English is a lot better, though. I can actually hold a conversation without having to pause and ask a person what word I'm looking for. And I'm decent with magic. Not the best, but I'm definitely not the worst in the class. There's this one kid named Neville who managed to melt six cauldrons in potion the first week here. The grading system here is O, E, A, P, D, T; O is the best, T is the worst. My average in most classes is an E, but I have an A in History of Magic and an O in Transfigurations. It's my best class, but I think you must have gathered it. I'm not failing anything, though, which is a good thing. I'm not used to school. _

_There isn't much else to say. I guess that the last remotely interesting thing is this village we get to go to sometimes. It's called Hogsmeade and it's the only all-magical town in England. It was freezing when we went, but it wasn't as bad as I thought. There's this drink called butterbeer I tried and it's pretty good. Oh, and I also tried what's called chocolate frogs, which are enchanted chocolates in the shape of frogs that actually hop. And that's it. I've run out of things to write. _

_Kenshin_

_P.S. Thanks. _

So he had good grades, excellent, and it sounded like he was at least attempting to enjoy life again. Whoever that Neville boy was sounded thicker than his student, which he supposed wasn't saying much, as Kenshin was much smarter than Hiko gave him credit for. He reread the letter again, getting in all the details. His eyes settled on the postscript.

_Thanks_, his little student had written. Thanks? What did that mean? Oh whatever, he'd figure that out after he'd eaten.

Now…what should he have for dinner? Hm…

-----------

Seeing a dog turn into a man, Kenshin decided, was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. And he'd seen many strange things. It seemed even stranger than the creature that sat in the cave along with the dog-turned-person—Buckbeak, they called it. Apparently it was a hippogriff or something of that sort.

"Chicken," the man said hoarsely. Harry opened his bag and handed over a bundle of food. "Thanks. I've been living off of rats mostly." _Rats_? Someone actually lived off _rats_? That sounded like a horrible way to live. "Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself." The man grinned.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather. Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a loveable stray." His spotted Kenshin for the first time as Harry shifted slightly. "Oh, you must be the new boy." He stood up and held out his hand. Kenshin shook it reluctantly; he still wasn't into the whole touching thing. Human contact would never be something he exactly enjoyed. "I'm Sirius Black, escaped but innocent convict and Harry's godfather. Nice to meet you."

"Kenshin Himura," he said as they released hands. "Nice to meet you too, sir."

Another grin stretched across the thin face. "Don't call me sir, sounds too old. Sirius is fine."

"Oh, um, okay."

"Why did you come back?" said Harry. Sirius turned his attention back to him. Kenshin shrunk away, next to Ron. Hermione was petting Buckbeak and he really didn't want to get near that.

"I want to be on the spot. Your last letter…well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the look of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried.

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

"You three—well, four now, I suppose—and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus. Did they explain what an Animagus is to you, Kenshin?"

He nodded. Yes, they'd told him the night they swapped stories. He wondered if Sirius knew more about him than he let on—Harry might have told him through a letter, and he'd mentioned in one that Dumbledore called him trustworthy (which made him happy since being liked was a good thing), so the headmaster might have told him something. Oh well, it wasn't like Sirius could tell anyone but the rats before he ate them.

"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry, looking down at a newspaper. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here…"

"I still say he's faking it," said Kenshin. Sirius nodded absentmindedly.

"You might be right," he said, finally finishing with his chicken. "My question though is why he would bother…skipping work isn't something Crouch would normally do."

"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," said Ron to Sirius. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he _did _look ill last time I saw him up close," said Harry. "The night my name came out of the goblet…"

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione. Joy, another house-elf rant. He could feel it coming. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now—bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron said quietly. Obsessed was a nice way of putting it. Though was advocating their rights really obsessed with _them _or obsessed with equality?

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

The discussion turned interesting after that. Kenshin stayed quiet the entire time, but listened to every word. Hermione's "obsession" with house-elves was nothing compared to the obsession Sirius described. That was the obsession of an entire nation, each with two completely different ideas, but attacking it in a similar way. Both sides ultimately failed in the end. Crouch lost it all and Voldemort lost power. It wasn't too difficult to destroy a human being on the inside and power was always the ticket to ruin. There was a reason he never wanted to do anything for profit or fame or glory—he was already messed up in the head enough, he didn't need to mess it up even more.

"What do you think?" asked Sirius as they prepared to go, turning to Kenshin. "About the entire situation, I mean."

"Personally or from an unbiased point of view?"

"Both, I guess."

"Personally I believe that Crouch is an idiot, Moody's paranoid, Karkaroff is the kind of person to run when he needs to, Snape is annoying, and Voldemort is better off dead." He kept his tone blunt. Sirius grinned. "On an unbiased point of view, it seems like Crouch is hiding something and Moody has his suspicions. And no matter how paranoid he is, that something might be based off of a fact that's kept from the public. When going into a campaign for a government position, you need to have the drive, the power, and know the right things to do. In that aspect, Crouch is a genius. But like most politicians, something went wrong towards the end and he fell from power.

"If Karkaroff showed Snape something on his arm and he was known to once be a Death Eater, it might be something the marked him as part of the group; a lot cults, which is essentially what the Death Eaters are, mark their members so that even if they try to leave and actually manage to, they have a constant reminder. Since it's magic, there's probably something more to that. Karkaroff was probably panicking because that mark is telling him something that he's afraid of. The Death Eaters had what was almost their own form of government, with Voldemort as the dictator. Karkaroff gave names, so he gave away information to an enemy and he knows that if the dictator returns, he's going to get a lot more than jail time.

"According to you, Snape was always clever and could probably stay out of trouble. This may be true and if my theory on Karkaroff is right, then might be it. Even so, I think that Dumbledore is the not the kind of man to be tricked by someone like Snape. Going by the information we have in front of us, I'd say he knows something. Whether he's part of it or not, I'm not sure. Crouch looking into his office at night isn't something that could be easily explained, so that's something to get back when more information is gathered.

"Voldemort knew what he wanted and knew what he was doing. When he lost power, it was some miscalculation on his part because he didn't factor in some piece of the equation. At surface level it was just a string of good and bad luck. For all we know, that really _was _the only reason. But like all dictators, he lost it. All forms of government lose power in the end and a new one has to be created. In his case the downfall was brutal and left a lot of people in the wake of his destruction. Hitler, a Muggle ruler in the nineteen-thirties and forties who was even _worse _than Voldemort in the sheer ruthlessness he displayed, had the same thing—when World War Two ended, he left the entire Nazi army to suffer his consequences as well as their own and twelve thousand deaths, half of which were just Jews, to be accounted for. A similar thing happened to Stalin, another Muggle like Hitler. It's seen all throughout history. Even if he comes back to power, Voldemort's going to fall.

"On a other person note, though, I think that in comparison to Hitler and Stalin, though, Voldemort is average. If he wanted to the most frightening ruler in all of existence, then he should've studied Muggle history. The Killing Curse is practically a joke compared to concentration camps, bloodied executions like in the French Revolution, or getting sliced to pieces with a sword before you have the opportunity to scream in terror."

Silence followed his explanation. Kenshin had never talked that much. Ever. It had actually been somewhat exhausting. It was amazing that some people could say that much every time they opened their mouths. That was practically a speech.

"You," said Sirius after the long stretch of nothing ended, "are possibly the smartest fourteen-year-old I've ever met." Kenshin blinked; whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. "I don't know your grades or anything like that—in that aspect, intelligence is purely Hermione—but most kids couldn't come up with that. The scenarios you set up were so plausible that I wouldn't be surprised if they were true. You see, here in the Wizarding world, we have Dark Wizards and our wars aren't open battles, even against the giants. But in the Muggle world, battles need to be fought out in the open, for the most, right?" He nodded. "Once you apply the idea of government to the concept of Dark Wizards, you nailed what might be the truth. Keep this boy around, Harry, I like him."

Harry smiled and said, "Come on, we should get back to school."

After Sirius turned back into a dog, they trudged down the hill together, a dog and four teenagers, looking for all the world like a normal group of friends and a pet.

* * *

See? There's much angst. At least that third one shot of Frailty of cheerful, because this wasn't at all. =[ and it's very sad writing not-cheering thigns at times, especially when you're worrying about finals.


	13. Chapter 13

AUTHOR ALERT ME! NEXT CHAPTER IS THE LAST CHAPTER AND THEN THE FIFTH BOOK-PART WILL COME OUT! Okay, better now. I know that most people don't bother to read the author notes, so I had put it in all caps. =] Anyway, I still need a title for that, which makes me sad because I honestly have no idea. Anyway, I'm COMPLETELY SKIPPING OVER THE THIRD TASK. This is the chapter leading up to it and next chapter is the aftermath. I don't know how to write it, unfortunately.

I don't own HP or RK.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Hermione's anger at Rita Skeeter and all those idiots who sent her hate-mail finally deflated on Friday. She and Kenshin were lying on the grass in their little area of the forbidden forest. Next to her, she could hear the redhead's breath coming out in small pants. His sword lay between them, still loosely held in his hand, the fading sunlight glinting off the blade. The late May air was a cloak of warmth wrapped around them.

"I can't believe you don't get bored of that," Kenshin said with a breathless laugh. "We were just here for about three hours and we come out here at least four times a week. How can you hold your attention just by watching something?"

She shrugged. "I don't know," she answered. "But I find it fascinating. Not that I can always see you, but that's beside the point. About how fast are you anyway?"

"Um, hold on, let me think of a good comparison." He turned his head to the side and coughed—he'd barely taken a breath that entire time it seemed. How he managed to keep moving that…actively was a complete mystery to her. "I can dodge bullets, if that helps. Or wait, no, that's a bad example since bullets move at different speeds. Okay, better one: Due to counter-momentum, if a tennis player hits the ball with a racket with the right force and in exactly the right place, its speed can reach up to roughly one-hundred and ninety-three kilometers per hour. I can dodge that."

"You can dodge _that _kind of speed?" she said, turned on her side to look at him, propping herself up on her elbow, head in hand. He did the same, facing her. "What are you, some superhuman?"

"It was nicknamed God's Speed, if you were to translate it to English." He gave her a wide smile. "It was the only thing I ever surpassed my teacher in, but he had the strength to make up for it. Getting a hit in on him is so hard. But it makes sense that I'm faster and he's stronger; I'm small and he's considerably bigger. Then again, most people are."

"So you were never shot before, right, since you dodge it? Considering your job, that's pretty remarkable. I can understand where the name came from."

"I've actually been shot three times," he said. His breath was coming out evenly again. "But I only had a bullet lodge once. The first time I let it hit me, I was eleven; it just grazed my side. It scared worse than it should have though, don't know why. The other two times were due to plain stupidity. The second time I technically shot myself because I kicked the gun out of the way and it discharged. That's the only bullet that actually lodged itself into me. The third time I walked straight into the path of it. Inexcusable."

"Why did you let yourself get hit?" she asked curiously, wondering why anyone would bother doing that in the first place. Then again, Kenshin did many things she couldn't image doing.

"To protect someone, long story. I actually could've avoided it all together, but I knew I needed to bleed for it to be believable. So I dodged and let it nick me. It was the only option I could think of. I only had thirty seconds."

"But then didn't the person you were protecting get hit?"

He shook his head. Conversation with him were never dull. "I wasn't standing in front of her. There was a police officer holding her and my only option was to let him shoot me so that he didn't shoot her. Looking back, if I actually _had _let myself get shot, it would've been one of the stupidest decisions of my left."

"Why?"

"The woman was pretty," he answered bluntly. "Extremely pretty. And I don't know the word to describe what he probably would have done to her in English. But I was eleven, so I didn't get that."

"Oh, that's awful. Why were you protecting her?"

"Long story," he said dismissively, but she understood that he was actually saying, _I don't want to talk about it._

"Well, then I suppose you'll just have to tell me this story one day, but for now I think we should head back up to the castle."

He nodded and stood, holding his hand out for her. She grabbed it and he pulled her up.

"Thanks," she said.

"Do you have to meet up with Viktor?" he asked.

"No, not today." On Fridays, she and her _boyfriend_,as the newspaper so eloquently put it (not that it was lying, he really was), generally met up and walked around the lake or wandered around the grounds. "The champions have to meet up to learn about the third task, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot." He turned his sword Invisible again and fastened it to his waist. "I wonder what this next task is going to be."

"Well, Harry will be able to tell us, won't he?" Kenshin nodded and they left their little area. "Will you be meeting up with us this summer or staying in Japan the whole ten weeks?"

"Meet up with you guys?"

"We're thinking of all staying together this summer, probably at the Weasleys."

"Maybe. I miss Japan, though, so if I come it'll only be for the last two weeks or something. Oh, look, it's Harry."

Indeed it was. He was coming down the front steps of the castle. When he saw them, he waved and came over.

"Where were you guys?" he asked.

"We went to the forbidden forest," she answered with a smile.

"Oh yeah, Ron and I still have to come, don't we? Well anyway, I have to go down the Quidditch field. I hope it isn't anything as horrible as the last two."

"See you later."

"Good luck," she said cheerfully as he walked by them and off to hear his fate. They entered the school, leaving the mugginess of the late afternoon behind them. "Do you have any homework left, Kenshin?"

He shook his head. "I finished it during lunch, remember? How about you?"

"I finished it before we left." They turned up the staircase, off to the common room where they would find Ron and comfy chairs waiting for them. Oh, those chairs would feel so nice after lying on grass that was littered with twigs and rocks. "Now if only Harry and Ron didn't procrastinate so much. They always complain about having so much work, but it's their own fault. Actually, most teenagers procrastinate. It would be nice if someone who wasn't a Ravenclaw or me cared about the grades they got and their behavior in class."

"I learned not to procrastinate at a young age—Pig snout—so I do everything as early as possible."

"What taught _you _to do that? I did everything early because I was so concerned with keeping up my good-two-shoes image."

"Several reasons, really. One is that my teacher loaded me with so much work, whether it was schooling, kata, or chores, that if I didn't do it as soon as possible, I'd be working past midnight. And when you're an assassin, if you miss your target because you were dragging your feet getting there, you mess up the entire schedule, for lack of better words. Those are two of the reasons."

Ron looked up miserably when they sat down next to him. "I hate Divinations," he said, laying his head back on the table. "The class will never amount to anything useful in life, so what's the point of giving us _this _much homework?"

"Most forms of math never come into everyday life," Hermione said, looking at his chart. Oh, that woman was so irritating. How Harry and Ron managed to keep it up was an achievement in and of itself. And how Lavender and Pavarti actually managed to _like _it was completely beyond her. "And in Muggle schools they make you learn it anyway. I assume that's why it's taught here, even if I think the subject is ridiculous beyond compare."

"Yeah," said Kenshin from her right. "The only thing that has ever been useful for me has been basic algebra: Adding, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Have I ever used geometry? No. Calculus? No."

"You learned _calculus_?" said Hermione, impressed.

"I was homeschooled," he said. "I could move at a faster pace than at school where they need to wait for the something. I don't know what it's called. I'm not very good at math in all honesty. I learned calculus, but that doesn't mean I understood it."

"Do you mean curriculum?"

"Yeah, that."

"Can you please shut up about math, you two?" said Ron, turning his head to look at them, but still keep it on the table. Lazy. "My brain aches enough; I don't want to think about number on top of that."

"What're you doing anyway?" Hermione asked, trying to read his chicken scratch handwriting. Another thing she couldn't understand about boys: Why did the majority have much messier handwriting than girls? It was the same with male teachers too—she could barely understand Professor Vector's. "More predictions of your death?"

"Yeah, I decided not to annoy her this month," he said.

"Good, because last month you earned a T on your project for making it happy last I heard." That woman didn't even deserve to be a professor.

"And it's fun, really, even if I'm running out of things." he said, looking down at his paper. "Predicting my death in horrible ways, I mean." Hermione could help it; she laughed. "Besides, it's not like any of it's true, I'm not going to find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow or get attacked by a rabid squirrel or anything."

"A rabid squirrel?" She stared at him, incredulous. "And she actually bothered to take that seriously and give you an O on your work?"

"The woman's mad, it's not like she cared. Trelawney actually _likes _hearing that Harry and I are going to be eaten by nufflers. She says we're brave for embracing out tragic fates or something like that."

"So what are so of your predictions?" Kenshin said, leaning past Hermione to look at him. "Besides getting attacked by rapid squirrels and eaten alive by nufflers, of course."

"Um." He looked down at his chart. Hermione sighed and shook her head before opening up her book for Ancient Runes. Her teacher had offered extra credit and she supposed she should start it now.

"Well, I'm going to be horribly beaten up by a Slytherin, a tree is going to kill Pig, I'm going to come down with a fatal illness, three days after that I'm going to find out I've become paralyzed and there's no magical cure, an unknown enemy is going to send me a curse in the form of a hat, a friend will accidently make me fall down the stairs, a toilet is going to explode on me, Rita Skeeter is going to write an article about my secret love of purple socks, the house-elves are going to poison my food because my brothers told them to, I'm going to lose a bet like I do every month, I will…"

Eventually she drowned him out, allowing herself to become immersed in the runes on the page. The extra credit was to figure out all their meaning and perfectly translate it. In truth she didn't exactly need this extra credit, but it always felt nice to get the highest grade in the class. The only class she _wasn't _doing the best in was Defense Against the Dark Arts; Harry was better. But she didn't hold it against him. It just wasn't her strongest subject, that was all.

"I have to tell you something," said a voice behind her half an hour later. She jumped and turned, only to find it was Harry. His face was white as he pulled the chair up to sit with them.

"What happened?" asked Ron immediately.

"After we learned about the third task—it's a maze by the way—I stayed behind to talk to Krum because he wanted to ask me something. I'll get back to that later. All the sudden there was the noise from behind us, right? I turned around to see _Mr. Crouch _there. He was talking babble, kept thinking your brother was there, Ron, and he was talking about his wife and son. Then he flipped out of his insanity momentarily and asked for Dumbledore, saying he did something very bad and Voldemort—oh, grow up, Ron!—was becoming stronger.

"So he switched back and forth a few times and when the shock wore off, I told Krum to stay where he was and went to run off to get Dumbledore like Crouch said. I got held up by Snape though, naturally, it's always him, isn't it? But Dumbledore came down and told him what happened and I showed him where I'd left Krum, _but he wasn't there._

"He turned out to be in the bushes and Crouch was nowhere to be found. Dumbledore woke him up and he said that Crouch had attacked him but he didn't know where he went. Then Hagrid and Moody come and Moody says he'd go and look for Crouch and Hagrid went off to go and get Karkaroff. When Karkaroff finally got there, he said that this was some big conspiracy made up by Hogwarts and the Ministry, which is ridiculous considering he's a Death Eater and he's more likely to do that than Dumbledore. But that's not the point. The point is that Crouch was there then gone. And he was really weak, so I have no idea how he could have left on his own or even have attacked anyone. Then again, he was completely out of his mind."

"Was Viktor okay?" Hermione asked immediately. Though she was worried about the entire situation, she was also very worried about him individually. Oh, this was terrible. Next to her, Ron scowled. Why did he care anyway?

"Yeah, he's fine, don't worry. Mind, he's a little freaked out but okay." Relief flooded her. "But I can't even begin to puzzle out what happened."

They spent the entire night talking until it was physically impossible to stay awake. The whole thing was rather unsettling. Something just wasn't there, something that should have made sense but didn't. Through the duration of the discussion and even when they woke up in the morning (after only about three hours of sleep, oh she was so tired), there was this hovering feeling that the answer was right there, right in front of their eyes.

Also, there was the knowledge that she and Kenshin had been in the forbidden forest only an hour or so before that and for a long time, too. So how could they not have heard something? And Kenshin seemed to have this heightened awareness of people nearby, but he said he hadn't noticed anything. So what was missing?

The next day they still hadn't gotten anywhere, kept moving in circles. This was torture. And naturally a "Snape did it!" theory came up. She'd shot it down, though, pointing out that the only possible way he could have gotten there was by turning into a bat. And who would want to be a bat anyway? Then again, she supposed it would be better than a bug or some other form of ugly creature.

"Oh, Harry!" she said as they left Professor Binns' classroom and hurried off to find Moody. "There he is!"

"Professor Moody?" Harry called as they hurried over, pushing past other students. She saw Ron grab Kenshin's arm and pull him out of the way so that he wouldn't get pushed into the wall by an extremely large seventh year.

"Hello, Potter." Moody's magical eye was moving madly around in his head. "Come in here." He held the door open to let them through. When he let go, it swung close with a _thud._

"Did you find him?" Harry asked immediately. Kenshin shrank behind her a little. She glanced back and gave him a small smile. Moody scared him more than he scared anyone else, she supposed. It must not be very fun having someone suspect you of being a media-displayed persona when you're actually quite the opposite. "Mr. Crouch?"

"No." He limped over to his desk where he sat down, pulling out his hip flask. For not the first time, she wondered what was in that—probably not water, knowing him.

"Did you use the map?"

"Of course, took a leaf out of your book, Potter. Summoned it from my office into the forest. He wasn't anywhere on there."

"So he _did _Disapparate?" said Ron. Hermione almost groaned in aggravation.

"_You can't Disapparate as on the grounds, Ron_!" she snapped, crossing her arms. "There are other ways he could have disappeared, aren't there, Professor?"

When his eye swiveled in her direction, she held back a quiver. His eye was so creepy. "You're another one who might think about a career as an Auror," he said. "Mind works the right way, Granger."

Her face flushed red, happy with the compliment. Though whether or not she'd ever actually go into field was a different matter—she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Then his eye went straight to Kenshin. His entire body tensed and he took a step towards her, nearly brushing up against her.

"Do you know what happened, Himura?" he growled.

"No!" he said quickly, shaking his hands in front of him. "I honestly don't!"

Moody stood up from his desk. Kenshin took a step back. Hermione stepped between them.

"Are you sure about that, boy?"

"Honestly! I was with Hermione and Ron the whole time. Please stop acting like I'm going to kill everyone in the school. I'm honestly not going to. I don't _want _to kill anyone. I don't want to torture anyone. I want to be normal, so please stop suspecting me!"

Moody looked honestly surprised. Though she couldn't see him, she knew that Kenshin was absolutely terrified and his face probably made it obvious—it usually did when he was afraid.

"You should've said something earlier, Himura," Moody said. Hermione moved so she was no longer between them, but next to Kenshin. Now that they were so close, she realized he was shaking. "Dumbledore said something like that, but I need to hear it out of a person's mouth to tell if they mean it or if they're just faking it. You seem to be telling the truth. But before I can trust you, tell me why you stopped killing in the first place."

"I promised someone," he said softly and looked down. "I never liked killing in the first place, I knew that what I was doing was morally wrong. I never felt the need to continue after the war was finished. But I swore to someone that I would never kill again once the war was over, not unless it was absolutely necessary and the only way to get out of the situation."

"Let me guess," said Moody, still looking down at him. "It was his or her dying words."

"I don't know what her dying words were, I couldn't hear them," he answered. "And about the Crouch situation…what if he never left the grounds at all?"

Hermione, Ron, and Harry's eyes all snapped towards him. But of course, he didn't fully understand the map, so he didn't realize it wasn't possible.

"I would've seen him," said Moody. "That map Potter gave me is pretty useful."

Kenshin took a deep breath and said, "Think about it this way: the killer—let's call them person X because they're the missing variable—came up behind Crouch in the woods while Krum's head was turned, looking for Harry. Crouch was out of his mind at the time and wouldn't have notice. X used the Imperius Curse on him, so that when Krum was Stunned, he was completely aware that it was Crouch. There would be a witness to say that no, there was no other person."

"You still aren't explaining how he's still on the grounds."

"Couldn't someone have pulled him onto a broomstick and flown off with him?" said Ron.

"We can't rule out kidnapping," said Moody. "But let Himura continue."

"There would be no witness after that," continued Kenshin and now that she heard it, Hermione realized that this was an incredibly plausible scenario—but of course, she nor the other two boys wanted to believe it was murder first and foremost. Not seriously anyway. "X could have killed him and dragged him off for a short distance. With magic, they could've have buried him much deeper than just a few feet under. To commit a murder with magic, it's easy. Not just the method, but the effective and available way of quickly getting rid of any evidence, too."

"I'd say you would make a good Auror, too, but with your record you'd never be allowed."

"I wouldn't want to be an Auror anyway."

"Now listen," Moody said, turning away from him to address all four of them. "Dumbledore's told me the three of you—you haven't been here long enough, Himura—fancy yourselves investigators, but there's nothing you can do about Crouch. The Ministry'll be looking for him now, Dumbledore's notified them. Potter, you just keep your mind on the third task."

"What?" he said and Hermione realized the third task had completely slipped her mind. How very unlike her. "Oh yeah…"

"Should be right up your street, this one. From what Dumbledore's said, you've managed to get through stuff like this plenty of times. Broke your way through a series of obstacles guarding the Philosopher's Stone in your first year, didn't you?"

"We helped," said Ron quickly. Hermione glowed with pride. "Me and Hermione helped."

When Moody smiled, it looked like two slabs of clay were splitting apart.

"Well, help him practice for this one and I'll be very surprised if he doesn't win," said Moody. "In the meantime…constant vigilance, Potter. Constant Vigilance." He paused to take a drink. "You three," he continued, his normal eye on Hermione, Ron, and Kenshin, "you stick close to Potter, all right? I'm keeping an eye on things, but all the same…you can never have too many eyes out."

Looking to Harry, Hermione remembered when Kenshin told her earlier, about taking the bullet for the girl he was protecting. Could she take the bullet for her friend? Yes, she decided.

She had to.

------

For the first time it was the four of them in the forest. Kenshin felt very awkward about the whole thing, because the other two boys were so eager to see him with his katana. When it was just Hermione, that was okay because it was only one person. But now he had a literal _audience_. After he finished (which took about an hour in total, because they kept asking him to continue), he stood there, katana still in hand.

"And that's what I look like," he said, staring not at them, but past them, not wanting to see their amazed faces. He didn't like being watched, a pet peeve made from living alone with one other person, completely cut off from the world for the majority of his life. "With a sword."

"I-I have nothing to compare that to," said Ron, "but that was _amazing_."

"How long did it take you to learn that?" asked Harry. Kenshin shifted uncomfortable and sheathed his katana. "I mean, that must have took years!"

"I was in training for five years," he answered. "Then for next four years, I was an assassin. Now I'm here. It generally takes longer than five years to learn what I know and because of the style a use, even longer than most. People call me a child prodigy, but it was more determination than anything else. My teacher said to do two hundred strokes, I did four hundred. That's really all that happened."

"You were moving faster than my Firebolt," said Harry, still staring at him.

"He can dodge bullets," said Hermione happily and Kenshin was becoming more and more embarrassed by the minute. "Of course he's faster than your Firebolt!"

A beetle flew past his face. He swatted it aside with his hand. Oh, he hated bugs.

"So _that's _what you were like as the Battousai," said Ron.

"No," he answered and sat down on the grass next to Hermione. "I was holding back. When I'm against an actual person, I have something to fight against, so I automatically move faster and bother to think of what move I'm using, assessing the fastest and easiest way to kill the person. Don't act so amazed. When push comes to shove, the art of the sword is the art of killing."

There was an awkward pause. Kenshin found he had a gift at creating those. He fidgeted, uncomfortable at the looks they were giving him. Finally, after not being able to take it anymore, he said, "But you know, it's fun when you _aren't _using it to kill a person. Not that there's much to do with it. It's really the only thing you know how to do. Or, well, more like the only thing I'm good at."

"You're good at magic," pointed out Hermione. Kenshin shrugged.

"How did you get into this anyway?" asked Harry, motioning to his katana. "I mean, did your parents sign you up for it?"

"I haven't lived with my parents since I was four," he said bluntly. "My teacher found me and took me in when I was five. From that point on, he homeschooled me, taught me how to use my katana, all the principles of my style, and basic household necessities, which turned out to be a good thing. His cooking tasted like dirt. Mine is considerably better."

"What happened to your parents?" Ron asked. Kenshin wasn't sure how to explain that, so he, as usual, he used his favorite answer.

"It's a long story."

"It's always a long story with you, isn't it?" said Ron, exasperated.

"If he doesn't want to talk about it, then he doesn't have to," snapped Hermione.

When the other redhead opened his mouth, Kenshin said, "Cut it out, guys. Seriously."

"So anyway," said Harry quickly. Kenshin played with a piece of grass between his fingers. "What're we planning on doing over the summer?"

"I was thinking we all stay at my house," said Ron and turned to him. "Hermione told me you probably won't come for the last two week, right?"

"Yeah, I want to spend some time in Japan."

"Well, can you come, Harry?"

The other boy grinned. "I'd never miss the opportunity. I hate the Dursleys."

"What're they like, anyway?" Kenshin asked; he'd heard about them, but was never told stories.

"Aunt Petunia looks a little like a horse," said Harry, "and her favorite pastime is spying on the neighbors. Uncle Vernon is really, really fat with this huge moustache that basically covers his mouth. He works at a company that works with drills. My cousin Dudley has roughly reached the weight of a baby whale, so he was put on a diet this summer that made him even worse than he usually is. I could go into a very long-winded description of what living with them is like, but the bottom line is that they hate me. A lot. When I was a kid they made me live in a cupboard under the stairs, but they moved me right before my first year in Hogwarts to the spare room."

"In the summer between first and second year," said Hermione, "they locked him in his bedroom and only allowed him out the go to the bathroom. Fed him through a cat-flap in the door."

"Yeah, barred the windows and everything," said Ron. "Fred, George, and I freed him by driving there in a flying car."

"Well, that must've made you feel horrible," said Kenshin. Harry shrugged.

"Did at the time, but now it's something funny to look back on."

"Everything seems either better or worse when you look back on it , I suppose."

"The all time worst, though," said Ron, "is when you look back on something that was really terrible and every time you think about it, you realize that it was worse than you originally thought."

"Yeah!" said Hermione. "There was this one time when I was ten, two summers before I came here, where I was playing with my cousin when she was over for the summer. At my house there's a swing-set in the backyard, so we were playing on that. She's the year older than me. So we were standing on this swing that fit two people and somehow we got into a fight about something silly that I don't remember and I elbowed her off. Nicole accidently broke her collar bone and it was all my fault…oh, that really _is _worse than I thought it was."

"So you _broke _your cousin's collarbone?" said Kenshin, staring at her incredulously. That wasn't something he could imagine Hermione doing at all, whether she meant for it to happen or not. The thought of her even hitting someone was strange. Then again, the other boys had told him about her slapping Malfoy in their third year. He would've paid to see that. "What happened?"

"Her screaming alerted our parents and they came running out. I lied and said that she fell and I don't think she ever told them that it was actually all my fault. I felt positively awful at the time." Ron and Harry laughed. "It's not funny!"

"Okay, okay," said Ron, forcing back his laughter. "I can beat that, though it's nothing I did. It was just really embarrassing."

"Oh really? So what happened?" Harry asked.

"When I was seven, my mom was really mad at me because I forgot to give her all my dirty laundry or something like that and Aunt Muriel was coming over. While she was yelling at me for my lack of responsibility and saying how Percy or Charlie or Bill had never given her this much trouble and something about not being like the twins, I decided to occupy myself. I thought it would be fun to shuffle back and forth in place—hey, I was seven, don't make fun of me—but I accidently stumbled when I hit the leg of a chair.

"I fell forward and bumped into my mom who bumped into the counter where her wand was sticking off of. Her wand went flying and landed in the dinner she was cooking, so the dinner exploded all over the place. And, naturally, it just _had _to be at the exact moment that my entire family and Aunt Muriel entered the kitchen, so the dinner splattered all over them, too, and Muriel said she'd write us out of her will and walked away. We didn't see her until that next Christmas."

"So your aunt was mad at you for that long?" said Hermione. Ron nodded. "That doesn't matter; mine was clearly worse! Breaking a bone is much worse than being threatened out of inheritance because soup exploded."

"Broken bones can be fixed in about a minute."

"Not in the Muggle world. It takes up to six weeks or longer."

"Harry, what's something you've done?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I turned my principal's wig blue by accident when I was nine."

"Seriously?" said Kenshin. "You honestly turned it blue? With _what_?"

"With nothing," said Harry with a laugh. "He'd embarrassed my in front of the whole class because I was sleeping on my desk when he entered and he used me as an example of 'bad behavior'. The rest of class was laughing and all I could think what that I wanted him to be just as embarrassed as I was and…I don't know. It just turned blue, bright, bright blue! It did it with accidental magic!"

"That's hilarious," said Ron. "But nothing's better than when you blew up your aunt. We told you about that, right, Kenshin?"

He nodded, grinning. Oh yes, he remembered. The story stuck out quite clearly in his mind, in fact.

"What's yours?" asked Hermione eagerly. Hm, good question. What was a good one…?

"Well, there was this one time," he said, holding back a laugh as the image replayed in his head, "when I was around eight and living with my teacher. It was the middle of winter and we were sparring on this frozen river. The day before I'd been stuck listening to this really long lecture about always checking my surroundings while fighting and I sort of dozed off midway between, so I didn't hear all of it. And when we were fighting on the ice, I stepping on this area that was thinner than the other. This, of course, should have been really obvious to me that it was there and—"

"You fell in, didn't you?" Harry said. Kenshin shook his head.

"Wrong," he said. "I weighed way too little do much more than crack it, but my teacher didn't realize that, so he came forward to grab me and pull me off, but I thought he was going to attack, so I jumped back even further. The force of my landing combined with his weight caused the ice to cave, but not near me. _He _fell in. I was panicking of course, but he managed to get himself out. Needless to say, he didn't go easy on me when we were sparring again later that day…on solid ground."

"Wait, so you stepped on the thin ice, but your teacher fell through and not you?" said Ron. Kenshin nodded. "That…how's that even possible?"

"My teacher's around two meters—I only about half his height and maybe one eighth his weight! Of course I didn't fall in. Actually, I still probably wouldn't have fallen, I'm too light."

"I say that Harry's wins," said Hermione, laughing. "Turning your principal's wig blue is much better than any of ours."

Harry smiled, obviously pleased with himself. Kenshin lay back down, staring through the thick canopy of trees and up at the sky. Today had been a good day, he decided.

So why, then, did he feel as if something bad was going to happen?


	14. Chapter 14

AUTHOR ALERT ME FOR THE BEGINNING OF THE NEXT STORY! Yes, this is unfortunately the last chapter of Assimilation. The next will be called Walking. Please enjoy this final chapter. I hope to see you in the next story. =]

I don't own RK or HP.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Harry walked through the hallways of Hogwarts, not wanting to go back to the common room after Dumbledore's speech. Tomorrow he'd have to return to the Dursleys, the few weeks of torture until he could go the Weasleys again. This year…this school…He ran his fingers hand along the wall as he walked, glad that he wasn't running into anymore people. The stone wall, it felt so familiar. The stones of Hogwarts could never change, just the people inside of it. Just him.

What would next year be like?

It was a thought he dreaded. How could he return after everything? How was it that within the course of a few hours, his life had turned itself inside out? How was it that in a single second, with a single word, a boy as brilliant as Cedric Diggory could fall? How could a life be that easy to end? How was it that life was so fragile? Cedric was seventeen...How was it that someone could kill just a teenager?

"Thank you, Professor," a tired voice said. He looked up from the ground to see Kenshin standing there, talking to McGonagall. In his hand were plan tickets. He'd be going back to Japan, Harry realized, until the end of August. In Japan he'd receive stares and people on the streets would draw away from him, separating him from society. Would that be what _his _life would turn into, a world where people dodged him as he walked down the halls of the only place he called home? "I really appreciate it."

"Your welcome, Himura," she said, looking down at him from her place in the doorway of her classroom. "Just remember that your flight is at ten, so take a taxi immediately to the airport. You'll only have an hour to spare. Now go get some sleep; you look like you're about to drop where you stand."

"Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight." She walked back into her room, letting the door shut behind her. Kenshin walk away.

"H-hey!" Harry called, running to catch up to him, having some unexplainable need to talk to him. The other boy stopped. "Are you heading back to the common room?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired," he said, tucking the tickets in his pocket. "And I should get some sleep incase I'm one of those people who can't sleep on planes. It's a seven hour flight."

"Sounds boring."

"It will be."

They fell into step with each other, both quiet. On one of the floors above, a girl laughed, the sound floating down to them.

"How did you cope?" he said finally, turning to look at his friend.

"With what?" Kenshin asked as they slipped past a tapestry, a shortcut up to the common room.

"Killing people," he said. "How did you deal with it?"

There was a pause. "By washing my hands. Sometimes I washed my hands until they bled. I kept on scrubbing, like I thought it would make the world disappear. I could block everything out. It wasn't until I finally felt the pain, though, that I would remember I couldn't wash my hands forever, that I couldn't make the world disappear. So I just accepted it and kept on killing until I ended up the way I am today. I hated the pain. That's something that will never change." He held up his hands and Harry could see the scars. They were light, barely noticeable, but still there.

"I feel so stupid."

"Why?"

"I told him…Cedric offered to let me take the cup, so that I could win, but I told him no. I was the one who said we should both take it at the same time and he listened. I'm such an idiot. I'm the reason he died."

"Stop walking," said Kenshin and Harry paused mid-step, turning around the face the other boy. Shadows of sleepiness had gathered under his eyes. Maybe this hadn't been the time to talk. "Listen, Harry, and don't become like me. It's…it's not good if you forget how to smile or laugh. There was this man I had to kill once…a politician like all the others. I had to hid behind a wall until he and his two bodyguards were close enough. One of his bodyguards was getting married and said he felt bad to feel so much happiness in a time when so many were suffering.

"But the politician answered, 'In this world, everyone's trying to find a little happiness.' That's rough translation. A world can't work if everyone is miserable, I learned that from experience. It was the day before my eleventh birthday I heard that.

"In my first sixth months on the job, back when I was ten, I killed over six hundred. By the time I left last May, I'd already killed around seven thousand. That's when I lost track. It wasn't until September, though, when I met you and Ron and Hermione, that I laughed for the first time since February three years ago.

"I'm not really good at this stuff, but what I'm trying to say is that death shouldn't stop the ones left from living. Everyone needs something to live for, even if it's just something as simple as one person asking you to keep going. If a murderer can try for a little happiness, then so can you. Just remember that you weren't the one who cast the spell…and that he died painlessly. Magic is kind when it comes to killing. Don't keep Ron and Hermione at arm's length. The last thing we need is for you to die too."

"It's really hard for you, isn't it?" They resumed walking. "I feel so selfish now, for thinking like I'm the only person who's ever had to deal with this."

Kenshin shrugged. "It gets easier, you'll realize that too, soon enough. Just remember how to laugh and everything will get better."

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling better. Hearing it from someone with a worse situation than he had say it was like a relief—the good kind of change was possible. That's all he needed to know. "I…"

"Don't mention it," said Kenshin with a laugh. "I never thought I'd be giving advice on how to be happy to someone. I'm such a miserable person."

"What _was _it that made you happy again anyway?"

"You guys. You, Ron, and Hermione. Even when you found out, you weren't afraid to look me in the eye. That's what did it."

Suddenly Harry remembered something very small and insignificant, something he'd been meaning to ask the other boy for weeks. "Do you like Hermione?" he blurted out. Kenshin looked at him in surprise.

"W-what?" His cheeks went red. "I-is it _that _obvious?"

Harry, just as suggested, started laughed. And it wasn't a forced laugh either. It was almost like the other boy's advice caused an immediate change.

"It's not funny!"

"No, no, sorry," Harry said once he calmed down. "And don't worry, I don't think anyone else has noticed."

"Then how did _you _notice?"

"No idea, it's just that when you're meeting someone for the first time, she's the person you automatically stand next to and if she hugs you, you don't tell her to get off."

"Well, um, yeah, I sort of do, I guess. I don't know. I suppose. I've never, well, you know, liked someone before and I can't believe I'm having this discussion with you."

"Yeah, it's a little strange, I'll admit. I wouldn't mind, though, you know, if you dated her."

"Wait, what? Where is this coming from?"

"I'm just saying in advance that if you date her it'd be okay because I don't think the four of us would act any differently."

"But it doesn't matter, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hermione has a boyfriend."

"So? He's leaving tomorrow and she isn't going to Bulgaria because she's going to the Weasleys instead. They've broken up."

"Seriously?"

"She said they agreed that a long distance relationship wouldn't have worked. So you have a chance."

"I think I'll wait a little while…"

"Come on, let's go back."

"O-okay, Harry."

Maybe…maybe it wouldn't be so hard after all.

---------

The weather was gorgeous the next morning, the sky a dome of blue, lacking any of its usual artwork of clouds. The four had somehow managed to find a compartment to themselves and were making the most it, taking up as much room as possible. Kenshin was lying down on one side, head about six inches away from Hermione's lap (which made him blush). Ron and Harry were sitting on the other side.

"So what do you think Dumbledore's going to do now that You-Know-Who back to power?" Ron asked as the train left Hogsmeade Station.

"Probably gather a group of people who still believe him," said Kenshin, staring up at the ceiling. "But since the Ministry controls the _Profit_, I wonder how many of those will be left."

"A lot, I bet," said Harry. "Dumbledore has many people who trust him."

"With him on our side," said Hermione. "Everything will be fine. I'm sure of it."

"Everything will be fine," repeated Harry. Ron laughed.

Kenshin shut his eyes, not wanting to mention that before the media found a way to paint him as a common, everyday cutthroat, he was considered a hero, deliverer of _Tenchuu_. Not that he liked it, but the general message was still the same—words that could be heard or read were just as strong as any act. If someone was willing to believe, it was possible to believe anything. And no one wanted to believe that Voldemort had come back to power. Many would refuse to, like Fudge. They lived in a world of fools.

They talked for a while after that, about what measures Dumbledore would take now that the Ministry would out of the question when it came to helping. They stopped, though, when the lunch trolley came by, piling up on food. Kenshin barely touched it. In twenty-four hours he'd be able to eat _actual _food…good Japanese food after an entire year. If he had sushi, maybe he'd be able to eat up to three rolls for once. He really needed to start eating more—then maybe he'd grow. It would help if he was ever hungry, of course.

When they were finished, Hermione extracted a copy of the _Daily Profit _and a paperfrom her bag. Kenshin looked at the newspaper, wary of its contents. Harry and Ron were giving it the same looked. After a moment of casually looking it over, Hermione calmly said, "There's nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."

"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this."

"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," said Hermione. Kenshin tilted his head to look at her. "As a matter of fact, Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on _her_."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron.

"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be on the grounds."

"You've been dying to tell us this, haven't you?" said Kenshin with a small smile. She hit him lightly on the forehead, causing that small smile to grow a bit. "Fine, fine, go on."

"How was she doing it?" said Harry before she could continue.

"How did you find out?" said Ron.

"Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea, Harry."

"Did I? How?"

"_Bugging,_" she said happily.

"But you said they didn't work—"

Still smiling in triumph, Hermione said, "Oh, not _electronic _bugs. No, you see…Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn—" She extracted a third item from her bag, a glass jar—"into a beetle."

"You're kidding," said Ron. Kenshin stared. It was so…so…un-Rita Skeeter. "You haven't…she's not…:

"Oh yes she is." Inside the jar was a small, makeshift beetle habitat.

"That's never—you're kidding—"

"No, I'm not," said Hermione. "I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."

"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" said Harry, inspecting the contents inside the glass.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had out conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."

Something was nagging at Kenshin and he couldn't figure out what it was for the life of him. He shut his eyes again and lifted up his arm to put it across them to block out the light completely. Goddamn it…what was it that he was forgetting? This was really frustrating…

"Very clever, Granger," said Draco Malfoy's voice. Kenshin's eyes snapped open and he moved his arm, turning to see the Slytherin and his two cronies standing in the doorway of the compartment. "So, you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal." Harry sent them a dirty look. "Trying not to think about it, are we? Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out of here, Malfoy," said Kenshin softly, only moving to go back to his earlier position, eyes shut, arm over face. He couldn't stand to see them anymore. He could feel Fred and George coming down the hallway. "You aren't welcome."

"And what're you going to do about it?" Malfoy said, arrogance dripping from every word. "You're just some pathetic fourteen-year-old—" Fifteen as of tomorrow. "—who can't do anything. I can't believe I was ever scared of you."

Kenshin laughed quietly, wondering how anyone could be so stupid.

"Stop," Hermione snapped and with a feeling of dread, he somehow _knew _that she was aware of something he wasn't. "Get out or—"

"Or what, Granger? Protecting your boyfriend? How sweet." Breathing became hard as he remembered what had been nagging him—_there was a beetle that day the four of them were in the forest. _"I know things about him that you couldn't believe. You see, Rita Skeeter was good at gathering information—she even sifted through Muggle news once she found out who he was." Oh no, oh no, oh no. "It was easy enough once she found the name he was originally under in the Ministry. Did you know that he was supposed to be put through—"

In a moment he was in front of the boy. Malfoy jumped and looked down. Kenshin only went up to the Slytherin's shoulder, even shorter compared to Crabbe and Goyle. Both of them looked very confused. "Don't think me harmless, Malfoy," he said quietly, golden eyes staring up at him, blank, unfeeling. The taller boy's face went paler than it already was, if possible. It took all Kenshin's willpower not to reach for the sword sheathed at his waist. "You don't need to kill to make a person regret saying something. It doesn't help that you have no idea what you're talking about." His voice was so quiet he doubted his friends could hear it. He laughed softly. "You don't need to kill someone to make them bleed. Let this be your warning. Make sure to tell your friends, too." Perfect terror was painted across Malfoy's face. Even so, he managed to compose himself.

"So this is what the angelic Gryffindor house is made of?" he said. "A group of Mudbloods, cowards pretending to be brave, blood traitors, false heroes, and murderers. A whole bunch of losers pretending to be good, all waiting to be killed. Hm, maybe even Diggory should've been a Gryffindor. He's already de—"

Something akin in an explosion went off in the compartment. Once the bright lights of all the spells faded, the heavily hexed bodies of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle lay unconscious on the floor. The twins were also there, wands out. A moment after that, Kenshin's head was struck by the worst bout of pain he'd felt in a while. Holding back a scream, he managed to stumble backwards and sit down. It hurt so badly. After trying to open his eyes, he assessed that it was as bad as the migraines he used to get—he couldn't see, couldn't breathe. An arm went around his shoulders. For one wild second, he thought it was Tomoe, before, through his painful haze, he remembered that she was dead and this was Hermione. A conversation was going on around him, but it was only a buzz in his ears.

After a while, the pain faded completely. It turned out to only have been fifteen minutes or so. His shoulders were shaking and he was honestly surprised that he hadn't started crying. Not that he was complaining—he hated crying. Hermione's arm was still wrapped around him. He coughed.

"Do you feel better?" she asked. He looked up, still somewhat dazed, and nodded. "What happened?" The rest of the boys in the compartment looked over.

"I-I have no idea," he answered and it half true this time. It made no sense that it would hurt _that _badly. Maybe he already had a natural headache forming. Hesitating, he asked the twins, "How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it, mate," said Fred. Harry looked at him guiltily.

"Since they heard so much, we had to tell them," he said. "I hope you're not mad…"

"As long as they don't tell anyone, I don't care," he answered, rubbing his temples. Thank god it was gone. "You won't, right guys?" The twins shook their heads.

"Um, you're probably wondering how Malfoy knew that," said Hermione in a small voice. He looked over to find the other piece of paper she was holding shoved in his face. On closer inspection, he realized it was a detailed list of information about him, but nothing about what happened to him in the incident Malfoy was about to describe. "I…When I caught her, I found this, too, next to her. She must have been holding it before she turned into the beetle. I don't know how she found out in the first place, but…"

"She was there," he said, staring at the list. Most of it wasn't even accurate, just information the media had spewed out about him. "When the four of us were in the forbidden forest. I whacked her out of the way. If I'd know, I would've stepped on her."

Ron snatched the paper from his hand. Harry looked over his shoulder to read it. Only a second or so later, the twins took it from them. Kenshin found himself unable to care. They were friends, it didn't matter.

"Is any of this true?" asked George, staring down at it.

"Most of it isn't. The name of my commander and my style are right…The name my hometown is right, my description, the rumor that I always wore a light blue scarf after a while, though the majority of that is just that—rumors. No one ever had a perfectly clear description of my face. All of that is leaked information from a traitor in our unit."

"Don't you still wear that scarf?" said Ron, looking up at his trunk where it sat above the seats. "I know you did to Hogsmeade."

"I've had it for the past three—now four, I suppose—years. It actually belonged to a girl, but luckily you can't tell that. What's the word you guys use?"

"Androgynous."

"Thanks."

"Um, Kenshin," Hermione said tentatively after a short silence, "what was Malfoy about to say?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

It was always his response, he supposed, but he wasn't ready to talk about all of it, all that happened. Maybe one day soon he'd be ready to do it. Just how soon was soon? He'd been jumping around answering, leaping past explanations. But how long could he kept that up? What would happened when he ran out of leaps?

He would learn to walk.


End file.
